The Untold Story of Chuck Bass' Heart
by BlairCorneliaBass
Summary: The story of C&B from Chuck's eyes. All beginning that one night at Victrola... "Now I had turned into this weakling of a man who, after having already slept with a girl, wanted more- and not just more sex! though that would be an indisputable requisite"
1. A Night of Firsts

**The Untold Story of Chuck Bass' Heart**

A Night of Firsts

_'I'm a suspect, I'm a traitor,  
I'm only here in body, visiting.  
Yellow faces and the distant screams,  
"The beauty is in what isn't said,"  
I'm rising to my feet,_

_Because tonight, the world turned in me.  
Because right now, I don't dare to breathe.  
Oh, babe, I know, it's alive and somewhere for us to find tonight,  
Chase this light with me.'_

-Jimmy Eat World

Who could have known how the events of tonight would play out? I certainly hadn't.

The night had begun much as I would have expected. I had been ready for another night of drowning my sorrows in alcohol- more or less a typical night for myself. But tonight occasioned more need than usual, since I had had the crushing blow of my father's condescending disapproval of Victrola. The first time I had even attempted some kind of business venture, and he dismissed it without a second thought. He'd had no idea the hours of preparation and consideration I had put into it- wanting to make sure that it would be precisely what dear old dad wanted.

Well, it certainly made me more determined to enjoy the party I was throwing at Victrola tonight- since it would probably be my last. At least I still had Blair and Nate's reactions to await. Of course, Blair had already given her approval, and I doubted that even Nate would find anything wrong with it.

The limo pulled up soon after Bart left, so I did not have to wait long for them.

When I opened the door to find only Blair in the backseat, I was more than surprised.

"Where's Nate?" I asked, confused.

"I think we just broke up," she answered back bitingly, slamming the door of the limo. "I don't want to talk about it; I just want to escape. That's what this place is for, right?" She stalked off towards the club.

Blair's face was angry, or, as I liked to call it, in full-on-bitch-mode. I wonder if Nate had finally manned up and broke things off so he could pursue Serena, or if something else had caused it. Either way, Blair obviously didn't want to talk about it. She marched furiously into the club and I followed after, directing her silently to our reserved table.

I wasn't exactly surprised by this turn of events. Really, Nate should have ended things long ago, even if it hadn't gone against my personal philosophy that a seventeen year old with a steady girlfriend was a crime against nature. But Nate had been mooning after Serena ever since they had sex last year. Even if I hadn't witnessed the event for myself, anyone could see the way he perked up whenever her name was mentioned. Including Blair, probably.

And if a guy couldn't get excited about having sex with his girlfriend, much less for the first time, there was clearly something wrong with him. It was a miracle for me if I wasn't having sex with a girl twenty minutes after meeting her...

And Blair, poor girl, had tried so hard. Who would have guessed that pure, virginal Blair could be so determined to lose her long protected virtue? But, obviously she had been more driven to lose it since Serena came back, sensing that Nate was not over her yet. Likely she had wanted to use that as some kind of claim on him. Sometimes that worked with a man. Never with me, of course.

And apparently it didn't work on Nate Archibald either. In my case, it was simply that I didn't place any importance on the sanctity of sex, but with Nate it was just the opposite.

Nate and his precious morals... Morals only got in the way of what you really wanted.

It was interesting that Blair had still come to my party tonight. Breaking up with one's boyfriend of many years- well, basically all her life- should be reason enough to stay at home and have a good cry. But Blair had always been a little different than normal girls- which was probably why I could treat her differently than other girls. She was at times cold-hearted, with a cunning, manipulative streak in her- so like my own- which I found completely respectable and admirable.

As I looked at her now, watching the dancers on stage with her second glass of champagne in hand, she was certainly not crying. In fact, there was no trace of sadness on her face at all.

A person who did not know Blair Waldorf might be completely fooled. But I knew Blair Waldorf. If she came here at all, she must have wanted to talk, despite her words earlier.

"I know you don't want to talk about what happened, but..." I began.

"Relief," she answered emphatically, her eyes riveted on the pivoting girls on stage. "I feel relief..."

She looked like she meant it, but I knew her well enough to know that she was covering up. In the aftershock of hurt, she would do anything and everything to appear unaffected- to at least save her pride.

I could understand that. How many times had I done the exact same thing because of my father?

As I continued to watch her face, waiting for the small slip that would break her non-chalant facade, her pouty little mouth turned up slightly and her expression grew excited as she watched the entertainment on stage.

"I've got moves, you know," she told me.

I laughed out loud. She sounded- and looked- like she wanted to get up on stage. But whatever Blair Waldorf might do in the aftershock of a break up, she would never get up on stage with a quartet of strippers. She might be a good liar, but not that good.

"Really?" I asked dubiously, calling her on her bluff. "Then why don't you get up there?"

She shook her head coyly and laughed back. "I'm just saying, I've got moves."

"C'mon," I continued to goad her."You're ten times hotter than any of those girls."

She rolled her eyes. "I know what you're doing, Bass."

That was where it should have ended. I was only teasing her; I knew she wasn't actually thinking of going up there. But, suddenly there was something in her expression that was so different from the normal Blair Waldorf. Something wild and defiant sparked in her wide brown eyes.

She turned to look at me, her expression challenging now. "You really don't think I'd go up there, do you?"

I would have never believed it possible before, but she looked like she would actually do it. That would definitely be one of the night's highlights; all she needed was a little push. And I knew, with Blair Waldorf, you did not use encouragement to get her to do what you wanted. You used taunts.

A condescending smile spread across my lips. "I know you won't do it."

It worked perfectly. She set down her champagne on the table and turned to me with a wicked twist on her lips.

"Guard my drink," she ordered.

I tried to keep the victorious grin off my face as I indicated with my hand for her to proceed. I really did not know what to expect. My first guess was that she would get up on the stage, and perhaps dance with the girls, but nothing more than that. Even in this state of defiance, I did not think that Blair Waldorf could do more than that.

But tonight seemed to be my night to be wrong.

She walked up on the stage, with her black high heels clicking against the floor. A few members of the audience called out, and the dancers seemed surprised, but willing to go along with it.

Blair took center stage, of course. In the midst of the dark club, with all of these burlesque dancers and their red corsets and garish make-up, she looked especially sweet and innocent. I noticed for the first time what she was wearing tonight. An extremely modest gray frock with buttons all the way up to her neck- better suited for a pilgrim than a sixteen year old girl. There was nothing in this dress that could at all be considered sexy. But then, maybe that was what made her going up there all the more seductive.

And, perhaps in defiance of her attire, her expression was no longer that of a little girl. It was the perfect combination of sly coquettry- as if this was her first venture into naughtiness and she was enjoying it so much. Of course, I was the only one in the room to know that that was exactly true.

She swayed her body slowly from left to right, moving in time with the music. Then, keeping her eyes on me, she raised her arms and slowly pulled out her headband, shaking out her dark curls. The crowd cheered and she coyly threw the headband at them.

Well, well. She certainly knew how to cause excitement. It was the small gestures, the ones that incited curiosity rather than satisfied it, that were truly seductive. I scooted to the edge of the couch eagerly.

She twisted her slender body to the side, revealing the zipper on her dress. With that devious smile on her blood red lips, she slipped it slowly down, inch by inch.

I was shocked. I felt it freezing every feature on my face. But this was Blair Waldorf, I had to remind myself. She wouldn't go any farther than that.

I was so happy to find that I was completely wrong.

She let the dress fall off of her in a quick, simple movement, revealing the silver slip she had underneath. I had seen Blair in various attire, some that were probably more revealing than this simple sheath, but there was something about it that made it more sexy than anything else she had ever worn. The dancing girls around her may as well have been wearing rags, I would have never noticed. I was sure no man in this club was looking anywhere except at Blair Waldorf right now.

I stood up, almost in a daze. It was a surreal moment, like I was in a dream. It made more sense to me than this being reality.

Blair continued to twirl around the stage, and with every slow, sultry movement, she became all the more alluring. She lifted her arm, which in turn, raised the hem of her slip to reveal more of her thighs. With a languid stretch, she drew her hand slowly across her shoulders, then peeked over her shoulder at me with her wicked eyes and devilish smile stretched on her lips.

That was when I realized something.

Blair Waldorf was dancing for _me_.

One of the crossdressing waiters came up behind me. "Who's that girl?" he asked, playing with the pearls wrapped around his neck.

I was the only one in the room who technically had the answer to that question, but at this moment, I really couldn't say that I knew the girl on that stage.

"I have no idea," I answered, a slow grin coming over my face.

This was a Blair Waldorf that I didn't know at all. Then again, maybe I was seeing the real Blair Waldorf for the first time.

"You go, baby vamp!" the waiter called out.

Blair pulled up the hem of her slip a little, just enough to get every man in the room's attention. Then she looked at me, as if asking whether I approved. I nodded my head and shook out my coat in anticipation, ready for what she would do next. She laughed with a wicked gleam in her eyes, and continued to sway her body back and forth. Then, with a sultriness on her face that really should not belong so perfectly on a virgin, she slid her slim body languidly down to one knee. She laughed coquettishly as she played with the pearl necklace around her neck, and waited for my reaction.

I shook my head, still in awe, grinning all the time. I had to give it to her. The girl knew what she was doing. And it had to be by natural instinct, as I was sure that Blair Waldorf had never once stepped into a strip club in all her life. I took a swig of my champagne, then raised my glass to her in defeat.

Her cat-like smile stretched in victory, and she continued to dance for the rest of the song. My eyes never moved from her.

When she'd had her fill, the audience gave her a standing ovation. Then, she skipped lightly down the stairs and back to our table, still wearing just her slip. She'd left her dowdy clothing on the stage, and looked like she had no intention of picking them up.

She giggled lightly as she lifted her glass of champagne to drink the last of it. "I'd better get going now," she said, setting down the drink.  
It was still early in the night, and this was my party that I was throwing at my club. But, I suddenly felt that I did not want to let Blair, whoever this new Blair really was, out of my sight tonight.

"Then allow me to drive you home," I said.

She nodded and began walking to the door. A few members of the audience, mostly men, called out at her as she walked by.

I couldn't help smirking a little condescendingly at them to be the one leaving with her.

When we got into the limo, we were both wrapped up in our thoughts.

I had never thought of Blair Waldorf in this way before- as... _sexy_. Not that I hadn't noticed her beauty before, anyone could see that, of course. And not that I had never imagined what she would be like in bed before- that was simply a product of being Chuck Bass. Every woman must be considered for potential.

But, she had always been so prim and proper; her virginal airs widely known throughout the school, not to mention the fact that she had been Nate's girlfriend. Even I had tried to pay some deference to that.

But, she wasn't Nate's girlfriend anymore. And she wasn't acting so prim, either...

"Thanks for the ride home," she said casually, breaking me from my reverie.

I felt like I should be the one thanking her. I realized then that I hadn't yet said anything about her impromptu strip tease.

"You were..._ amazing_ up there." That seemed like an inadequate choice of words.

She stared into my eyes for a moment, as if something had just occurred to her. Perhaps she was seeing me in a different light as well.

She moved closer to me, stopping when our shoulders touched and her face was just inches from mine. I knew what would come next and there was not a thought in my head to stop it. Neither moved first, but rather, we simultaneously leaned in to touch our lips in a kiss.

It should have been awkward and strange, not only because it was our first kiss, but also because just hours ago, Blair had been Nate's girlfriend.

But it was oddly comfortable- natural, even. As if this had been coming on for a long time.

Still, the reminder that it was her first time, and that she had been my best friend's girlfriend, nagged at me. And I remembered that she was my friend, too.

I stilled my lips and pulled back, not without a herculean effort on my part.

"You sure?" I asked, for the first time ever in my life. But Blair deserved the choice.

She paused for the slightest second, then answered me with another kiss.

That was answer enough for me.

I was sure that Blair had been planning exactly how she would be deflowered for years- every single detail must have been plotted out in her head. A suite at The Plaza, flowers and candle light decorating the room, and a perfect silk lingerie outfit. And I was sure that losing her virginity in the back of a limo could never have been possibly included in those plans. I could have waited for a more appropriate venue if she wished, but she was very clearly wanting this to happen right now, right here- in the back of my limo, with the glowing lights of the city and streets swirling around us.

It was not the first time I was having sex in a moving vehicle, but it was my first time in my vehicle. So it was a night of firsts for the both of us.  
And though we were in the back of a limo, and though Blair was only wearing a slip, there was still a certain class in it. For even in just her underclothing, Blair still looked like a queen. And even after I had taken that off, money was etched on her skin, and her body bathed in the perfume of societal airs.

There was a difference between the feel of her skin and that of other girls. It had to be only by some thousand dollar cream that her skin was so soft and supple, and smelled like the world's most luscious scent. Certainly, she wasn't the first debutante I had slept with, so maybe I had just been bagging too many call girls lately.

Then again, that could just be Blair.

She was so unshy in her touch, in her kisses- so much that it seemed ironic that I had asked before if she was sure she wanted to do this. There seemed to be no one person more ready to do this than Blair Waldorf was at this moment. And, also ironically, it felt as if she were the one in control. At first, I was almost bewildered and incapacitated by this new Blair, with the way that she kissed me, the way she tore my clothing off, the way she touched me. As if it had all been boiling under her skin, just simmering and waiting to burst forth when the right time came. How glad I was to be the one to unearth the hidden fires of Blair Waldorf's passion.

And yet, I found I was the one to try and slow things down. Not for her sake, but because, I wanted to take my time and enjoy it fully.

I thought, from past experience with virgins, that I should go slow and carefully. But she was having none of that. I was the one scrambling to keep up with her. Strangely I felt I was the one following her lead, and that she, rather than I, was the one educating the other.

I had long ago given up on any fascination with virgins, anyway. It usually felt more like an arduous lesson rather than a satisfying experience. It was much more gratifying with someone who knew what they were doing, and might even offer up a few surprises- even to a veteran such as myself.

But Blair wasn't acting typical at all. It almost made me suspicious that perhaps she couldn't be as untouched as she claimed to be.

But when it came to it, and I could feel the sheath inside of her that was proof of her virginity, I knew I would have to be more careful. It was said that a girl couldn't enjoy her first time, because of the initial pain. And I wouldn't normally care so much, because with most girls, they just didn't have that instinct in them to let go the first time. But I felt, intuitively, that Blair was very different. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, but I would prove that wrong tonight, for Blair.

She gasped aloud as I broke through, and I made sure to distract her with attention to other areas of her body. I waited until she began to move her hips on her own and her gasps turned into a very different sort. I thanked God every day for this stamina with which I had been bestowed- it always brought about the most amazing results.

And though some men were oblivious to the tells of a woman's real orgasm, I had fine-tuned it to an art; a sixth sense, if you will. Even without that- I knew Blair, and she had no reason to be faking anything. If Blair Waldorf wasn't enjoying herself, she didn't keep it to herself.

So when she brought herself up short with a shocked gasp, contracting herself around me, and screaming ever so slightly, I knew, it was the real thing.

A victorious grin stretched across my lips as I pressed them to her neck, and I let go.


	2. Morning After Effects

Morning After Effects

_'I've got emotion  
Dripping out my pores and I  
Thought I would let you know  
You are the night light  
Rippin through my wicked world  
How you make it sparkle and glow,  
Before I lose control  
There's just one thing you should know_

_This is for real, this time I mean it  
I'm coming clean, please don't let go_

_This is the best thing that I've ever had for real'_

-Motion City Soundtrack

It was four o'clock in the morning, and I hadn't slept a wink. That was not a totally abnormal way for me to spend my night, but the cause was generally because I was preoccupied with a girl. And though that was also the cause for my sleeplessness this night, it wasn't quite the same since the girl was only in my thoughts, instead of in my bed.

I lie in my bed, with a constant smile touching my lips. I felt... keyed up. Excited, in a rash way. It was a bit strange since I generally felt no desire to sleep with a girl after one night with her. There were, after all, at least 3.5 billion women in the world, and the average male life span was only 79- why waste time with sloppy seconds?

And this was Blair Waldorf. I had known her all my life. There wasn't anything that I didn't

know about her already- her body was the last thing for me to newly discover about her. And I had become well acquainted with that last night...

So why did I want so much to see her now? Why did the events of last night continue to play like a movie behind my eyes? Why did her voice, and the way she had moaned in my ear, echo in my head?

It made no sense to me, and I could only chalk it up to the fact that it had just been so _surprising_. Never in my wildest dreams had I ever imagined that Blair Waldorf could behave so.

Still, one night was usually sufficient to satiate my appetite for a woman. With the new day brought new possibilties, new girls to conquer.

But I didn't feel that way at all right now. I couldn't even seem to think of any other woman but Blair Waldorf.

I still couldn't understand how last night had been so... amazing. In all honesty, it was one of the best nights I'd ever had, which didn't make any sense at all. It had been her first time, she hadn't done anything differently, hadn't pulled out any moves I wasn't already well acquainted with.

But there had just been something about it- like every time she touched me a spark of electricity had coursed through me. Like fireworks erupting between us.

Had I secretly wanted her all this time and only ignored these desires because of allegiance to Nate? I supposed it was possible... She had always stood out to me from other girls that I knew because of her soul- or I should say, lack there of. She had no qualms about destroying anyone or anything to get what she wanted. She wasn't brass or upfront about it either, she understood well the importance of guerilla tactics for social ladder climbing- to manipulate and control with one face, but smile and simper with the other. She was made for this world that we had been born into, but rather than apologize for or disparage it, as Nate and Serena often did, she accepted it as it was and made herself queen of it. Because when you were on top of high society, the only rules that applied were the ones that you dictated.

Which is exactly why I had made myself king of it.

A king and queen then. I had to admit, we would look good together...

The thought popped up in my head, whether this could be because it had been forbidden- because I had "stolen" Blair from Nate, or even simply went along with the revenge that Blair had enacted against him...

But, no. They had broken up; she was a free woman to do whatever she wanted... including me, which she had definitely wanted. And the thought that Blair had only used me for revenge... bothered me. Certainly, I was sure that there was some slight satisfaction for her in that, but, last night had not only been about revenge.

I was trying to not think about Nate too much, though I continually told myself that there was no reason to feel guilt. He and Blair had broken up, she'd had no strings attached. And, whatever happened last night had been more than simply relieving someone of their virginity. I had been... comforting Blair, in the best way one can be comforted.

All the same, it would probably be best not to tell him about us for awhile.

_Us_? What was I thinking- that I was her _boyfriend _now? I thought about it for a minute, and it disturbed me how little that word bothered me in application to Blair. Quite the opposite, it made me almost... happy, I realized with slight appall.

I had always ensured that I never became the _boyfriend_ of anyone. The whole concept of the boyfriend/girlfriend relationship generally repulsed me. The hand holding, the gooey sweet talk- all of it in order to cover up the lies each told to try to be what the other one wanted. Until it all came out, which it inevitably had to, and then it was over because they never really knew or liked the other person in the first place.

Really, hadn't that been the downfall of Blair and Nate's relationship? Lying to eachother to cover up their faults and misdeeds, and essentially, the real person each was?

But, maybe... if two people already knew each other- knew all of their darkest traits and, rather than merely forgiving them for it, actually liked them all the more for them... perhaps, a relationship between two people like that could actually work.

Blair knew I was a bastard, and I certainly knew she was a bitch. And with whom else did two such black sheep belong?

I looked over across the bedsheets which had only been tossed and turned by myself last night at the clock on the bedstand. 6:13. Ugh...

I got up from the bed, not groggily or even reluctantly. I felt awake and hyper despite the complete lack of sleep, as if I had taken some drug. I opened the curtains a little to see if the sun had risen yet. The sky outside was tinged with pink and orange, but a yellow orb had yet to come out over the clouds.

I was becoming steadily impatient. It was true that Blair generally did not sleep in late, she  
always had an agenda, a schedule to follow for the day. But people did not usually go visiting at 6 in the morning. I should wait until at least noon before I called on her.

All I wanted to see her face. To be near her.

An image from one of Blair's beloved Audrey Hepburn movies flashed into my mind then: a love-sick Freddy Eynsford-Hill, singing 'On The Street Where You Live' to the doorstep of Eliza Doolittle. Ugh. I was not love-sick, and I was _not _Freddy. If I was anyone from _My_ _Fair Lady_, I would definitely be cold-hearted and conceited Henry Higgins.

I turned away from the window and shuffled, slightly angry, to the bar to get some tequila. Breakfast time.

But I couldn't drink as much I wanted to. In truth, I did feel a little... sick.

That wasn't the right word for it though. Nervous was a more befitting choice, although it too bothered me. What did I have to be nervous about? If I was feeling this way, whatever I was feeling, Blair would be ten times more so.

Perhaps she too had been thinking of this possibility for a long time. Afterall, _she_ was the one to attack _me_ last night; I had merely been some poor, but extremely fortunate, bystander. It was only inevitable that she notice my undeniable allure at some point. Every other girl did.

So what if Blair had stayed up the night before, as I had, totally unable to sleep? I could imagine her lying in her silk sheet bed, the covers balled in her fists, a secret smile spread on her lips as she remembered last night. Anticipating when she'd get a chance at more.

But this only worsened my own excitement. Infact, the thought of her waiting for me totally disabled my resolve and I decided to just go now and damn social proprieties.

I dressed quickly and called my driver to the front. It was 6:35 now, and with New York traffic, it would likely take at least 20 minutes before I reached her apartment. Blair was likely to be up by then. And if not, maybe it was better afterall to surprise her in bed...

We arrived at 7:04. I opened the limo door to the crisp autumn morning, and began walking to the door of the apartment building.

"Just to be at the place where you live..." I sang under my breath. Ugh. Where had that even come from? I only knew the lyrics because Blair had insisted on watching it so many times.

The doorman looked surprised as I came closer, recognizing me from previous occasions and obviously wondering what I would be doing here at this hour.

"Morning, Boris," I greeted him in a pleasant tone. It was always good to be on close terms with the help. Especially since I expected his help in sneaking into the Waldorf residence from now on... "I'm here to see Miss Waldorf."

He looked surprised that I was addressing him, and especially that I had remembered his name, then shook his head regretfully. "I'm sorry, Mr. Bass," he said in his strong Russian accent. "Miss Blair is out."

Out? That was surprising. But then, perhaps she was out looking for _me_.

I smiled at that thought. "Could you tell me where she went?"

He paused for a second, studying my face, most likely wondering whether it was okay to divulge this information.

Apparently he found me safe enough. "Miss Blair say she return in an hour, and she need to go clean herself," he whispered, looking around as if someone might overhear the secret.

My eyebrows raised dubiously. "Clean herself?" The nearest spa was thirty miles away.

Boris nodded. "That all she say, but I see her walk to church down the street." He pointed in the direction of a Catholic church on the corner of the next street.

My face was still mystified as I thanked the doorman, giving him a generous tip, and got back into my limo. I told the driver to park in front of the church on the next street.

Blair was in church right now. To "clean" herself. Was she even Catholic?

Hmm, certainly not the place I expected her to be. I felt a twinge of... annoyance I suppose, since Blair feeling like she needed to be cleansed in a church after our night of passion did not have the best connotations. But Blair had a thing about justice being paid.

And maybe she thought last night was so good, it was sinful.

Well, she'd have to do a lot more repenting before I was through with her.

Most likely she was just a girl, and girls felt these things more keenly than boys did. After all, she had been planning to save herself for her boyfriend of many years, and when that didn't happen, it must have been a shock. She must feel guilty for that, even though it was no crime at all. I would do all I could to ease her from her guilt; remind her that what had happened last night had felt so right, there could be no sin in it.

It was only a few minutes after we had parked the car that I saw a petite brunette in a black slip dress and boots step out of the wide doors of the church. She removed the veiled cap she'd placed atop her curls and slid Gucci sunglasses over her eyes. With a wide smile and relieved sigh, she began walking down the steps.

Just seeing her now, after such a long night's absence, caused a curious relief to spread through out me. And to equal the relief, that strange sickness returned in full force. My heart started to beat faster and my palms grew slick.

"Start the car and follow that girl," I told the driver. "I need to talk with her."

The engine purred to life quietly and the limo drifted forward as Blair crossed onto the other side of the street. I lowered my window as I came up on her side.

"Well, this is the last place I'd expect to find you," I drawled cheerfully.

Her mouth hung open for a few seconds in surprise, and her gait slowed but did not stop.

"Go away, Chuck," she said forcefully, taking her sunglasses off. "I've been given orders practically from God himself to avoid you."

Not exactly the response I had been hoping for. But, I had expected she would be a little snarky. Blair was nothing if not sarcastic. One of the things I appreciated most about her.

"Would you consider avoiding me over breakfast?" I purred.

"Sorry." She didn't sound sorry at all. Then her tone turned suddenly pleasant. "But as is tradition on the day before my birthday, I'm heading over to the jewler's to put some pieces on hold for Elinor and-"

"Nate?" I finished for her, my voice drawing out the name in my surprise. What on earth was she thinking? They'd broken up last night. The only thing ex-girlfriends received from their ex-boyfriends was an STD. "Oh I don't think he'll be singing happy birthday this year," I reminded her condescendingly.

Her tone and face soured. "No one knows that Nate and I broke up and it's going to stay that way so I can fix this. And I don't think your best friend would still be your best friend if he knew." Her eyes narrowed as she said this, knowing that I indeed didn't want Nate to find out.

But really, who was more at fault? The best friend for partaking of the forbidden fruit or the very-recently-made ex-girlfriend who gave it up? I knew what the man's perspective would be, and the odds were in my favor.

"If he knew," I continued her thought in a seductive voice, "how much I enjoyed the removal of a certain chastity belt in the back of this very limo?"

I carressed the backseat, remembering. Hell yes, I'd enjoyed it. A little too much, apparently.

She stopped, and luckily my driver was trained enough to stop the car with her. Her cold brown eyes stared down at me and she spoke in a slow, stiff voice. "From this moment forward, the events of last night will never be mentioned again- is that clear?"

The only thing that was clear was that she didn't know me as well as I knew her.

I leaned against the window, and stared at her fully in the face with my most smouldering stare. "Not as clear as the memory of you purring in my ear, which I have been replaying over and over..."

She rolled her eyes, unmoved. "Well, erase the tape. Because as far as I'm concerned, it never happened."

Erase the tape, huh? Easier said than done. I had spent all night trying to do that.

"I'll see you at your party tonight," I said coldly, finally giving up on any more flirting. Or politeness.

And apparently so was she. "You're officially uninvited," she infomed me jeeringly, walking forward away from the limo.

"Never stopped me before," I yelled to her with more emotion than I would have preferred. She continued to walk away without a glance back, her little hips sashaying back and forth as she went.

I couldn't help the disappointment that coursed through me. All my ideas of her waiting for me, excited just as I was, was... not totally correct. I suppose I should have known better how Blair would react in such a situation, but still... why was she acting like it was _nothing_?

So last night for her was just revenge on Nate? In the past, I had always been more than happy to solicit my services for an evening of revenge on a girl's boyfriend. So, then was my rejection of this idea merely out of loyalty to Nate?

No. It annoyed and aggravated me simply because I didn't want Blair to think our night together had been a one-night stand.

But then, I had a reputation for such things, and maybe she only thought that because she was expecting that from me. Perhaps, she only needed more enlightenment on the true nature of Chuck Bass.

I had better give her some time now, anyway. And, she had just given me exactly what I needed to give her the best birthday present for tonight. The thought that _I_ was the one to give her presents now, made me smile again.

****

When I had returned to my suite, I placed the golden bag with the $30,000 Ericsson Beamon necklace I had just purchased on the wet bar counter and then flopped onto my bed. It was 11:30 now- I had had to wait for Blair to place her holds and disappear from sight before I could buy them. And the girl had taken her time in choosing.

I knew that I should really try to get some sleep now. Even on nights that I had stayed up all night partying, I had had to need sleep at _some_ point.

But I still wasn't tired, or I suppose I should say, I couldn't fall asleep. Every time I closed my eyes and sighed sleepily, I recalled when Blair had closed her eyes in pleasure last night, and when she had sighed in ecstasy.

It went on like this for almost an hour. I was about to give up and get some lunch when I heard a knock on the door of the suite.

My heart leapt for a second, and I sat straight up in my bed. It had to be Blair, come to visit me and say she was sorry for the way she acted this morning. We could have lunch together, and then move on to satisfying other physical hungers...

"Chuck?" the voice called from the other side of the door, deep and manly and definitely not Blair's.

I felt the all-consuming disappointment again, which then quickly turned into fear and indecision. I had hoped it was the voice of the person I most wanted to see, but it turned out to be the person I least wanted to see.

I slid quietly out of bed and glided to the door, peeking through the peephole, just in case. Yes, it was definitely Nate.

Ugh, I really wasn't prepared for this- what on earth should I say to him?

_"So Nate, Blair let me deflower her in my limo last night, and, FYI- she is way better in bed than you could have ever imagined. Really missed the boat on that one, bud."_

I knew the responsible thing to do- the thing all sitcom characters on a TV show would all do by the end of the episode- tell the truth. But, even though it hadn't _really _been wrong, I just didn't think Nate would handle the truth very well right now.

"C'mon man," his voice came again through the polished wood. "I can hear you breathing on the other side of the door."

I looked up at the celiing, shaking my head. Damn it, there was no escape now.

"If there's anyone there, you need to get rid of them. I really need to talk to you, man, please," he pleaded.

That finally did it. My best friend needed to talk to me, and I wasn't about to let him down.

Likewise, I would not let him down by telling him that I slept with his ex-girlfriend last night.

"Nathaniel," I exclaimed as I swung the door open, as if he hadn't been pounding on my door for the last five minutes.

"Where's the girl?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

"In my dreams, I was trying to get some shut eye," I answered as I walked across the room. This was going to be bad if I was already telling the full, excruciating truth.

I noticed the present I had picked up for Blair still sitting on the counter I had left it on and quickly, and hopefully surreptitiously, moved it onto one of the bar stools.

"What's on your mind?" I asked, turning back to him.

"It's my mom," he replied dully.

"Sounds Freudian..." I commented.

He slumped onto the sofa, placing his head in his hands and groaning. "She wants me to give Blair her ring," he finally stated.

"What?" I asked a little too quickly. "You guys broke up." Please don't tell me that Blair was lying about that... then again, if she _had_ been lying, then perhaps last night was all brought about by her raging lust for me... not a bad thought, but it would be harder to explain to Nate later on...

"Yeah, I know," he agreed, sitting up to lean more against the couch. "I mean, uh- wait, how do you know?" He turned to look at me swiftly, his forehead creased in confusion.

Oops. Well, at least I was a good liar. It took me just a second to adjust my expression into its normal non-chalance.

"Predictably, your ex ran the old "grobe-the-best-friend" play; tried to see where your head was at..." He nodded, accepting my explanation.

"So, uh," I paused, struggling to make this sound casual. "Where, uh... is your head?" The question came out more significantly than I wanted.

This was important information. Now that I was in this situation, it seemed rather foolish of me to have gone head first into this whole thing with Blair without really considering Nate's feelings. No, but I _knew_ that he had been wanting to break things off with her for a long time now, so he couldn't really be wanting to get back together with her... could he?

I really wasn't sure what I would do if he said that he did. On the one hand, I should of course be loyal to my best friend of many years. But then, the thought of giving Blair over to Nate now, after all that had happened made me... angry.

"Spinning," Nate finally answered my question.

Not a good answer.

"I mean, my Mom wants me to get back with Blair so that Elinor doesn't pull out of their _business deal_. It's all because of my Dad's whole trial thing, you know."

Ah, that was a much better answer. Clearly, _Nate_ didn't want to be with Blair. Still, familial piety was an unfortunately strong pull for Nate in his decisions about life, and if his parents wanted him to get back with his ex-girlfriend, it could be problematic.

"I'm sorry about that," I told him truthfully. I did feel like a bad friend for not supporting him more while his family life was in upset. "But, look, if you're done with Blair- be done. Don't cave to your parents wishes if they're not your desires." That had been my motto in life.

"Excuse me?" he challenged, eyebrows raised. "Where's my boy? Seal the deal, tap that ass, money marries bigger money?" he quoted. Ah, the things I said before any of this had happened. I had only been trying to be supportive, as a best friend should. Now, the thought of them together made me sick.

Please don't tap that ass, Nate. It's mine now.

"Look," I said, "I care about three things, Nathaniel: money, the pleasures money buys me, and you. I'm just trying to have your back here."

This was true. I had always thought that Nate and Blair did not belong together. It was really for the good of all that they not get back together.

"Your parents have been trying to control you your whole life," I continued. "If it doesn't end now, when will it ever?"

This, I knew, was the perfect sentence to say to any teenager, but most especially Nate Archibald, whose life really had been planned out for him since birth. He nodded and seemed to accept what I'd said.

I was in the clear. For now.


	3. A Happy Unbirthday

A Happy Unbirthday

_You...  
You want nothing to do with me.  
I...  
I don't know what to do with you.  
'Cause you...  
don't know what you do to me._

-Head Automatica

After a little more chitchat, we had lunch in the restaurant downstairs. Nate didn't say anything more about Blair, and especially not attending her party. I prudently kept my mouth shut on such matters as well.

He left at around four, which left me with five hours before the start of Blair's party- so basically, an eternity. I tried napping again the first two hours, but finally realized that sleep would just not be possible until I saw Blair's face again. The third hour, I tried watching some T.V., but then everything seemed to remind me of her. The fourth hour I spent an insane amount of time getting ready for her party. And by the fifth hour, I was so sick of the suite and excited to go that I decided to leave early and have the driver drive around for a while before going in.

Like an idiot.

Which was exactly the problem, I decided as the limo drove around in circles around fifth Avenue. I had been acting like a fool this morning when I saw Blair, so no wonder she had treated me as such. What I needed to be was calm and collected, as I always had been with other girls. Why was it so hard to do that now with Blair?! I wouldn't let myself be that way anymore.

Finally, finally, the time was up and Blair's party would be in full swing. I felt a little shaky as I got out of the limo and through the doors of the apartment building. That same sickness that I'd been feeling all day pounded against my stomach.

What was that phrase people always said? "Butterflies in the stomach?"

Huh. Who knew they really were right.

Except that these were mean, nasty butterflies, who wanted to cause pain more than anything else.

I guess that's why they were mine, though.

I walked in through the front door, scanning the throng of people for her. Suddenly, I heard Serena call out my name.

"Chuck!"

I turned to see Serena and Blair sitting by each other. But, just as quickly as Serena said my name, Blair stiffened and then strode quickly off. Without even turning once in my direction.

The butterflies turned murderous. I was tempted to turn right back out the door and never look back. But, even just thinking it, I knew I couldn't do it. I wouldn't be able to sleep and I wouldn't get rid of these damn butterflies until I talked with her.

But, considering her reaction, I should probably wait a few minutes.

I walked over to Serena, smoothing my expression. "What's up with Blair?" I asked, leaning against the bar counter.

"I don't know," she muttered, worry lining her forehead as she turned back to her half-finished sushi. Then she looked at me sharply. "Have you seen Nate?"

I pursed my lips and shrugged my shoulders lightly. "Not since this ? He's not here?" Best to try for innocence.

Serena, with a disappointed face, looked among the crowd again. "Not yet," she mumbled.

I nodded slightly, as if I didn't really care. Inside, I was just the opposite. I didn't expect him to show up tonight, but still, it would ruin everything if he did.

Serena went off to talk with some friends, so I walked around the place for a bit. It might have looked like I was interested in the architecture of furnishings of the place, but actually, I was just using it as an excuse to look for Blair.

I found her out on the veranda, looking out over the city.

"Are you ready for your present?" I asked, in as polite, pleasant tone as I could muster.

And she, with a sadistic twist on her lips and ever so unpolitely, grabbed my hair by her claws and pulled it down sharply.

"OW!" She was deceptively strong for all of her ninety-three pounds.

"If you wanted to play rough, all you had to do was ask." I was more than willing to acquiese.

One of the party guests called out to her as she passed by.

"Hi." Blair returned unperturbedly, still clutching at my head with her claws. "Hello there. Happy birthday to me!" she piped, with a false cheeriness only detectable to me.

She released my head finally, then looked out at the city, exhaling tiredly. "You nauseate me."

Definitely not the welcoming I had been hoping for.

"All this talk about how you have to be with Nate or the world will end-" now I was the one being nauseated- "face it! it's over."

"You sound like a jealous boyfriend," she muttered.

I laughed outright, but unfortunately there was a tinge in it which made it come off as nervous rather than scornful, as I had been intending.

"Yeah, right," I scoffed. I was going for patronizing amusement, but my voice came out a little too haltingly. "You wish."

Ugh. Stupid reaction. Why had I said it that way? It didn't sound at all the way I had wanted it to. What was _wrong_ with me?! Where was the smooth and suave Chuck Bass that everyone knew and, well, didn't love, but feared and respected nonetheless.

Now all of a sudden I had turned into this weakling of a man, who, after having already slept with a girl, wanted something more with her- and not just more sex! (though that would be an indesputable requisite...)

She laughed, and it wasn't at all like the nervous, embarrased bark I had let slip earlier. It was the one I had wanted to laugh, full of incredulous disbelief.

"No," she said slowly, her eyes roving over my face, dissecting. "_You_ wish."

I was right to have looked away. Even from just the perusal of one side of my face, she had struck through my defenses and found my weakness.

She was good. She always looked for the weak parts of others to use them for her own gain.

I had to respect her for it. She really was just like me.

But I was not about to let Blair Waldorf take control of my weak points.

I turned to look at her, forcing my best sneer on my face. "Please," I jeered. "You forget who you're talking to."

"So do you," she continued, realization slowly breaking on her face. Her expression now closely mirrored that of a hound which had just caught the trail of a delicious fox, and wouldn't let go until it had the fox's fragile neck in its sharp teeth.

"Do you... _like_ me?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

I sucked in a quick breath, continuing to stare straight ahead and away from her penetrating gaze. I really wasn't in the mood to be declaring my feelings for Blair, if even I understood them myself, which I did not.

How could anyone like Blair Waldorf? She was a cold-hearted, narcisstic bitch. Then again, those were jut the reasons why I liked her.

So, I supposed, I _did_ like Blair- as a friend. We had known each other all of our lives, been friends for most of it, and good friends for the last few months. There was no person I liked to scheme with more, nor anyone's judgment and powers of manipulation I trusted in more.

But, after the events of last night... I was seeing her in a different light. All of these wild emotions that had been coursing through me... didn't feel like mere friendship anymore.

Was this what it felt like to _like_ someone?

I turned to look at her. She did not look pleased, or hopeful, or anything even close to that. She was excited, but I knew this was not the same excitement a person feels from some longing hope that her own affection might be reciprocated. She was merely entertained.

"Define like," I hedged, stammering and looking down.

"Oh!" she gasped, completely and effusively incredulous and mocking. "You've got to be kidding me- I do _not_ believethis!"

I couldn't believe it either- that _I_- Chuck Bass- was finally the one on this side of the situation. I'd had to deal with clingy women more than a few times- which was why I infinitely preferred the company of hired women because they knew when things were over- and _I_ was always the one to end things. Never- _never_ had I been the one to want to prolong it.

"How do you think _I_ feel?" My voice at least had returned to its more usual sneering cadences. "I haven't _slept_, I feel _sick..._ like there's something in my stomach... fluttering." I only realized after it had already come out, just how incredibly stupid it sounded.

I made sure to look away from her again. Even without seeing her reaction though, it was humiliating enough. Blair's voice sounded more than mocking. It was disgusted.

"Butterflies?" she concluded, her tone acidic.

Apparently the look on my face was all the evidence she needed.

"Oh no, no, no, no, no, no!" she repeated vehemently, pacing over to my other side. "This is not happening!"

Had I ever fathomed what my first declaration of affection for a girl would be like, this would be its absolute opposite.

"Believe me," I countered emphatically, trying to salvage whatever shreds of pride I had left in me. "No one is more surprised or ashamed than I am."

Yes, ashamed. There could be no better word for exactly how I felt at this moment.

"Chuck," she began, and with this one word, I knew that all of my hopes, whatever they had been, would now be promptly and succinctly annihilated. Because, while Blair's tone now was slightly softer, it was all the more patronizing.

I hung my head, afraid to look at Blair's reaction, though knowing from the experience of the last few minutes what it would be. More than anything, I knew I felt... hurt, and I knew that I was completely pathetic for allowing myself to feel such an emotion. I had never, _ever _let this happen before! What the hell was I doing? I might as well be seconds away from declaring my undying love for this bitch of a girl- when had I been unknowingly castrated and where was the bastard who had done it?

I had never become interested in a girl for anything more than the pleasures her body afforded. And, though I was well aware of the intense lust I still felt for Blair's body, even I knew that the painful thronging in my chest that I was experiencing now was not a result of that. It was because I wanted her for more than just her body, more than for just sex.

I wanted _her_.

But, she had made it abundantly clear that she did not want me.

She continued on, and at least this time, her voice was only mockingly sweet. "You know that I adore all of God's creatures, and the metaphors that they inspire, but-" she paused, and tightened her fist as a show of strength- "these butterflies? They've got to be murdered."

She said it so simply, like it was merely instructions for getting over a sickness. Well, maybe she was right. Who knew what these infatuous feelings really were- but whatever they were, they needed to be destroyed. Who cared about their potential when they were costing me my dignity and pride. Nothing was worth that.

I drew myself up, squaring my shoulders and looked her full in the face, feeling my old, comforting coldness envelop me again. "Fine," I agreed. "It wasn't that great, anyway."

"Thanks," she replied, sarcastic and not sounding grateful at all.

I went off soon after, with the excuse of wanting to actually enjoy the party to Blair. That for me meant heading straight for the bar and ordering the strongest stuff they had. I was in no mood for this party now, and was only staying for the alcohol and because I didn't want Blair to think she sent me home with my tail between my legs.

The sting of the bourbon coursing down my throat mirrored the sting I felt thrughtout the rest of me. Who did that little bitch think she was, anyway? Hadn't I been there for her last night, comforted her, done everything I could to make sure she enjoyed her first time? And then, she spurned me without a second's pause.

The pang of rejection was new and horribly strong. Not that I'd gotten every girl I'd ever wanted before, but they had never mattered as much. If I hadn't bagged the hottest girl in the bar for the night, the only pain that caused me was a case of blue balls. It was nothing compared to the hurt I felt now, which had nothing physical in it at all.

I expected the crazy emotions I'd been experiencing all day to dissipate immediately after this. I couldn't possibly feel anything more than contempt for Blair Waldorf now. And once they were completely gone, I could exact my revenge.

But, I found after a few minutes, that they still had not gone away. Certainly, I still felt angry and hurt, but I also still yearned to go after her, to do anything she wanted me to.

But I wouldn't do that. Because that would make me weak.

And Blair Waldorf would never see Chuck Bass as weak.

But a Bass never gave up on something that he wanted. So what if I didn't understand the reasons behind this desire- I knew what I wanted.

And I knew that there was always _some_ way to get what you wanted. And the easiest and most effective ways generally came through the art of strategic manipulation.

I got up off the bar stool, and slowly made my way to the veranda again, where I knew Blair must still be. The rejection had at least enabled me to _act_ more like myself, even if I didn't _feel_ that way. I knew I could play my part now- suave, cool and collected. She would never even guess that my heart was beating painfully against my chest, or how I would watch every expression, every gesture of hers like a hawk- looking for any emotion in her beyond annoyance for me.

I saw her on the veranda, her back turned towards me. It would be better to surprise her, so that she couldn't run away.

I had to trick her. I had to manipulate her into a good situation. I had to stop looking at the bare skin of her neck and shoulders showcased by her black dress. It was distracting.

I came up beside her as she looked down, twiddling her phone in her hands.

She didn't even turn to look at me. She rolled her eyes and turned away. "Stalk me much?"

She walked over to the balcony overlooking the city. I followed, my gait slow and casual.

"What are you still doing up here all alone?" I asked, the familiar Bass purr back in my voice.

She struggled for a fw seconds, as if deciding whether to tell me or not. Finally she sighed. "I don't know where Nate is, and he always calls me at midnight when it turns into my birthday."

"Well, I wouldn't count on it tonight," I jeered, as an idea popped in my head. The perfect plan. Exactly what I needed to get Blair under my thumb tonight.

I turned to look at her with a patronizing look. "Doesn't it strike you as just a little bit of coincidence- the timing of everything?"

"What do you mean?" she asked shortly.

"Well, Nate suddenly decides he wants to get back together just moments after your mother decides to put the brakes on her deal with the captain?"

Her face turned scornful, as if this idea was ludicrous. "So, you're saying that Nate's only pretending to like me, and that he's actually using me to get to my mother?" Her smile was mocking, but I saw her fidget slightly. "He wouldn't do that," she countered defensively.

"Yes, he would," I said slowly, emphasizing each word. Then I looked into her eyes pointedly, with a knowing look. "If it was to help his family, you know he would."

I really wasn't even being devious about this. I was merely telling Blair the truth of the situation. Perhaps I was not being as loyal as I could be to Nate, but on the other hand, wasn't I being loyal to Blair, as her _friend, _by telling her this?

"Nate loves me," she still countered, and I, playing my part, laughed scornfully. Her expression soured at the sight of it. "Whatever he's doing, wherever he is, he _will_ call me at midnight, you'll see." With each word she sounded more defensive and desperate. I could smell an easy victory.

"Care to make a wager?" I asked, leaning close to her. "If he calls, I'll leave you alone forever." Or until the phone call ends at least. "If he doesn't-" I leaned in even closer, with eyes of pure seduction- "you spend the night with me."

"I will not!" she protested, pushing me back. Nervously.

"I thought you were sure..." I let the sentence hang for a moment. It was so easy.

She paused, looking a little flustered, but trying to cover it up. "You're gonna lose," she stated, voice hard. "He's never missed my birthday."

The thing was though, with each birthday that passed, people changed. And tonight Miss Waldorf would know of the existence of a new Nate Archibald.

And perhaps tonight she would know the new Chuck Bass, too. In the biblical sense, of course...

All that was left now was to wait until midnight. I bided my time on the veranda, practically counting down each second. There was a slight doubt that perhaps Nate would ruin everything, but I knew my best friend too well. He wouldn't be making any phone calls tonight.

The second my watch's little and big hand struck twelve, I started looking for Blair, having trouble keeping the grin off my face.

I found her at the bar, drinking.

"12:01. I'm sorry." Well, I could probably sound a little more sorry, if I actually meant it.

"No, you're smarmy. There's a difference," she countered.

She knew me well.

"If you're coming to collect you can forget it," she spat.

Oh, I'd be collecting alright; it was only a matter of time. But for right now, I only wanted to wish her a happy birthday, as Serena was bringing Blair's cake behind her.

"Turn around," I instructed.

"You get grosser by the second," she groaned.

I sighed, shaking my head. Sometimes my reputation was a bit of a hindrance. Not that that wasn't something I was looking forward to, though...

We'd have time for that later.

"You get over it," I assured her. "Look." I pointed at the cake.

"Happy birthday!" Serena sang.

The party grew quiet as everyone gathered around the brightly glowing cake and Blair.

"C'mon, blow out your candles," Isabel cried.

"Yeah, make a wish, Blair," Serena added.

I thought this might cheer her, or at least that she would pretend for the sake of others. But Blair only looked at the cake with at first disinterest, and then loathing.

"It already didn't come true," she muttered, walking away, leaving the candles still brightly lit.

Everyone watched her retreat, most completely baffled by this turn of events. I was the only person to know what Blair had been wishing for tonight.

But the cake remained there, with all of its glowing candles. Someone's wish would have to be granted. And I was going to do everything I could do to make sure it was mine.

I turned to the cake and slowly blew out each candle.

The party resumed after a few minutes. Blair had disappeared, and I had the feeling that I should leave her alone for awhile.

But soon there was another disruption to Blair's party, one that she wouldn't be able to ignore.

Everyone's phone rang with a new blast from gossip girl. The subject: Nate Archibald with his arms around some blonde.

Even I was surprised. I didn't know my best friend had it in him to be so quick in moving on. Not that that didn't help my cause.

The girls were going crazy.

"Oh my god," Isabel repeated over and over again.

"You know, maybe she's wrong," Serena offered, sounding a little desperate in her attempt to make things okay. "It wouldn't be the first time."

Just then, Blair came up. Serena turned to her.

"Blair," she sympathized, shaking her head back and forth. "I'm so sorry, I never would have thought this would happen."

"I hope the slut gave him herpes!" Isabel seethed, as a loyal minion should.

"Cheater totally deserves herpes," Kati agreed, not wanting to be outdone.

Blair had taken this all in with a fairly composed face, or perhaps numbed was a better word. But here, her composure broke, and her pure anger, hurt, and betrayal poured out.

"He isn't cheating. We broke up!" she explained, voice rising far above the chattering crowd. "He was going to get back together with me- but only so my mom would help out his dad!" Then she looked directly at me, with half-formed tears in her eyes. "Satisfied?" she asked, her voice breaking, and she turned to leave.

The surprising thing was... I wasn't satisfied. I _should_ be. This had all gone according to my plan. Nate hadn't called Blair, they were officially over and Blair knew it. Her party was ruined because of him. She was in a vulnerable place now, the best state of mind for revenge sex.

But that wasn't why I wanted to run after her now. And it certainly didn't explain why I felt so... guilty.

It was because Blair was hurt. And... I didn't want her to be hurt.

It wasn't really my fault that this had happened. Well, okay, perhaps I could have encouraged Nate to get back together with Blair, but that would be doing her a disservice as well since it still would have been a lie on his part.

Yet I felt I would have to be the one to set things right. And I didn't have any idea how to do that- how to _comfort_ someone.

I had never been comforted by anyone before.

I couldn't give her what she had been wishing for- nothing could erase all that had happened between her and Nate now. There was just one thing I knew for sure she had wanted that I could give her.

I went to where I had left the present I had gotten for Blair, taking my time. I knew Blair wouldn't want to be around anyone for awhile.

After about thirty minutes, I walked over to the room I had seen Blair go into before. I opened the door quietly, and closed it just as silently.

Blair had been lying on the bed, thankfully not crying. She looked up when the door opened, and her face hardened when she saw who came in. She readjusted herself, so that she was sitting on the bed.

"I'm not in the mood, Chuck," she muttered. Well we'd see about that. "This is pretty much the worst birthday ever."

"Maybe it could be salvaged," I replied, bringing the black rectangular case from behind my back.

I sat on the bed next to her, with the case in my hands for her to open.

"Is that our sex tape?" she asked acidly.

I opened the box, revealing the beautifully arranged glittering stones of the necklace she had put on hold earlier today.

"It's the Ericsson Beamon necklace," she whispered, eyes wide.

I smiled, happy that this was at least working to distract her from her sadness. And knowing that I could at least fulfill one of her wishes tonight.

I brought the necklace out, flipping close the case.

"No, I couldn't," she protested weakly.

"Yes, you can." I laid the necklace against the skin of her throat, tying the ends of it around her neck. She bent her head, allowing me easier access and protesting no more.

Then she raised her head to look at herself in the mirror across from us. I spent a few seconds adjusting the pieces of the necklace so that they lay just right. Then I turned to look at her reflection as well.

"Something this beautiful, deserves to be seen on someone worthy of its beauty," I told her, as she looked at herself in the mirror, touching the shining diamonds of the necklace absently.

It was true. I had never given any other girl some $30,000 bauble like this, simply because no girl had ever been worth something like that. But even if she had, I was sure that no other girl could look as befitting, as regal as such jewelry looked on Blair. Such riches could only belong rightfully on a girl like her.

"I really am sorry." This time I meant it.

I turned to look at her real expression as she continued to play thoughtfully with the necklace around her neck. Her expression was so different from what I was used to seeing on Blair Waldorf's face- hurt, vulnerable. But, rather than wanting to capitalize on it for my own gratification, it made me feel more tenderly towards her. I only wanted to make her happy again.

I lifted my hand to adjust the necklace once again, but her small hand stopped mine, turning it over and placing it in hers so that she could hold it. Such a gesture was made inifintely sweeter as it was done by a girl who was normally so hard-hearted and cold.

All of the sick feelings, the nervousness and pain that I had so newly experienced today, was worth it for this one small moment between us. To have her recognize me as a real friend, and now, a lover.

I lowered my head to her shoulder, and pressed my lips to her skin. Her head swiveled to be closer to mine. Like a lover would do.

I was caught off guard by the rush of emotion I experienced because of such an intimate moment. Everyone's clothes were on, there was no groping or rubbing, nothing sexual at all going on. Yet.

And yet it was as enjoyable as those things, in a new way. There was an incredible pleasure in these small, tender gestures between each other that I could never have imagined before.

Then she brought her small hand to my cheek and raised it til my lips met hers.

This time I knew she was not doing it because she was drunk, or caught up in the moment, or in revenge against Nate. Her kisses this time were soft and tender.

She was kissing me because I had been here for her. Because I had been her friend.

And because she liked me, too.

My own birthdays had always been rather disappointing, if because I had not received a gift I wanted or because it was a constant reminder of my mother's loss and the effect that had on my father. And for the first time, I had gotten exactly what I wanted. It was the happiest unbirthday ever.


	4. Dirty Little Secret

Dirty Little Secret

_We get some rules to follow  
That and this  
These and those  
No one knows_

Oh, what you do to me  
No one knows

Pleasantly caving in  
I come undone

And I realize you're mine  
Indeed a fool of mine

_Heaven smiles above me  
What a gift there below  
But no one knows_

A gift that you give to me  
No one knows 

-Queens of the Stone Age

It was unfortunate that the day after Blair's birthday party was the start of the Thanksgiving holiday break, which I was scheduled to celebrate at home.

The holiday did nothing to bring _my_ family closer together; Bart spent most of the time on the phone doing business deals. I tried keeping up our traditions- watching the Macy's parade on T.V. with a constantly filled scotch in my hand, playing cards with my pillow and a single malt whiskey in hand, and sitting down to a large, overly done Thanksgiving dinner by myself with a bottle of bourbon in hand. Yes, all in all it had been quite the typical Thanksgiving Day for the Bass household.

Except in one area. In the past, a particular favorite tradition of mine for turkey day was to have a threesome in my suite (I'm sure Freud would say it was something about fulfilling lack of familial intimacy), but I decided to skip out on that one this year. I supposed it was the thing to do considering my and Blair's situation.

A situation we hadn't quite defined in any terms. We couldn't spend much time together post-coital at her birthday party, since, obviously there was a huge crowd of people just outside the door who were waiting anxiously for Blair to return, and likely not while physically connected to a Bass. So we'd had to part with a quick kiss and a promise to call each other.

The time apart slightly worried me, though I knew for certain she had thoroughly enjoyed her second, more time-consuming birthday present from me that night. Still, I had the feeling that I had barely won Blair's consent. Perseverance, keeping me on her mind, I knew would be the way win any ground with her.

So, I made sure to make up for my absence with as many dirty text messages to her as possible. Which she replied to eagerly, and deliciously naughtily, until halfway through Thanksgiving Day, when she stopped altogether. I tried calling her after that, but I always got her answering machine. But I told myself that since she had an actual family, it made sense that she would be busy during the day to celebrate such an institution.

The next day, I went to see her. My mood was close to that same exhiliration I'd felt that first 'morning after'. I'd felt the distance apart more keenly than I would have thought.

When the elevator doors opened, she was already waiting for me.

"Morning, Waldorf," I drawled, leaning against the the opened doors with an all-encompassing leer over her form.

"What are you doing?" she fumed, dragging me to one of the corners of the Waldorf hallway. Blair's maid, Dorota, peeked interestedly from the doorway as she dusted some furniture.

"What were you thinking, you idiot!" Blair whispered furiously, looking down as she noticed the flowers in my hands. The sparking fury in her eyes increased dangerously. She grabbed the roses and whacked me on the chest with them.

I brought my hands up to shield myself, confused by her angry demeanor. And a little turned on by it. "I can see how much you missed me," I said sarcastically.

"Did anyone see you come in? With these _flowers_?" she demanded, looking down at the ruby red flora with narrowed eyes.

"We live in New York, Blair. I was a little hard-pressed to make sidewalk reservations."

"No one should be seeing us together, Bass," she seethed. Then her expression faltered, as if she remembered something. "Especially because there is no _us_!"

I was getting angry... or hurt, I should say, which would of course manifest itself in anger. "Don't tell me," I sneered in a barely controlled voice. "You're still hoping that Nate is-"

"Of course not," she interjected quickly in a flat voice, a cold expression quickly taking over her face. "Like I would ever even _speak _to him again after what he did."

I searched her expression minutely, looking for signs that this was a cover-up. But she was one-hundred percent serious.

Relief flooded me, and my confidence returned. A small smile crept on my face.

She sighed aggravatedly, pacing away a little. "What are you even doing here?"

"You know what they say about too many holiday indulgences. I thought we could burn off some calories together."

"No thanks,_ I _know how to control myself."

I came up behind her, trailing my fingers slowly down her ribs, the curve of her hips, barely brushing against her ass. "I think we both know," I breathed in her ear, "that's not true when it comes to me, Waldorf,"

"You should leave," she retorted. Shakily.

"And deprive you of your new favorite form of entertainment? I'm more considerate than that, Blair."

She was breathing unevenly. "What happened those two nights was a mistake, Chuck, which I am _not_ going to repeat."

I skimmed a finger along the curve of a breast, then watched as it reacted to my touch through her thin shirt. "Your body seems to disagree with that assessment."

She paused a few seconds, I watched as her hand clutched the edge of her skirt, as if trying to remind herself of her will. Then suddenly she turned around, staring into my eyes. I saw the expression in her eyes change as she lost the battle for control.

"Go back to your limo," she instructed in a hard whisper. "Drive around for five minutes, then come back here. Do. Not. Get. Out. I'll meet you in there."

I spent a moment controlling my excitement. It would be best if Blair did not know how very much this meant to me.

And I didn't want her thinking she could order me around from now on.

"Fine," I agreed carelessly. "But only if I don't find any La Perlas under that skirt when you do," I purred, and walked away with a smile at her flustered, yet undeniably excited, expression.

The second she closed the limo door, my fingers found their way up her skirt. "Mmm, look who knows how to follow instructions," I gloated, squeezing the bare skin of her ass that I had missed so much.

She grabbed me roughly by my collar, bringing her face right up to mine, so that her lips brushed against mine as she spoke. "You'll be the one following instructions from now on."

I decided by the end of the week that I should soundproof the walls of the limo. She was a loud little minx.

And she was growing steadily more violent in her lovemaking. I had red claw marks all down my back for hours afterwards, but somehow, when I felt the slight sting from them, I couldn't stop grinning.

Blair's sexual education became top priority, and I found that I had never enjoyed sharing my knowledge as I did with her. It was unfortunate that, like school, we had time constraints to her learning.

For example, she never stayed the whole night, since she didn't want anyone to find out. I wondered if this was why I never got tired of her, because she always left me wanting more.

Usually,with any other girl, after our physical recreation was done for the night, it annoyed me when they slept over. It's not like I had paid them to _actually _sleep with me.

But I thought I might like it if Blair could have stayed the whole night. Because we weren't only having sex with each other. I honestly liked her company, talking with her, fine tuning the details of my knowledge of her.

Like the time I discovered not only Blair's plans for her further education, but also one of the quickest ways to get her hot and bothered.

"What college are you even planning on attending, anyway?" she had asked as we lay in my bed, still in our uniforms, having just got out of school. It had been a tiring day- two exams- and another long seminar on college planning to attend. When we arrived at my suite, we only flopped onto the bed to take a nap, too tired for anything else. For the time, anyway.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Whichever I want, I suppose." Which technically was none of them, since I really had no desire to go to college at all.

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you think it'll be so easy for you?"

I smirked, stretching a little as I brought my arms up behind my head. "That's just the way life is for a Bass, Waldorf."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, at least _I_ will be accepted by Yale by my own efforts," she sighed happily against my chest.

I noticed, after a few seconds of silence, her heartbeat quickening, and she squeezed me a little as I felt her smile against my ribs.

It took a few seconds to put the puzzle pieces together. Was Blair getting turned on by talking about... _Yale_?

"That's right, I forgot you'd always wanted to go there," I recalled, sounding careless. "But, really, what's so great about Yale, anyway?"

"Mmm," she sighed, rubbing her body against me, as if this was already inducing ecstasy in her. "Yale is absolutely perfect."

"Really?" I asked dubiously. I wanted to know how far I could go with this. "Says who?"

She began kissing up my chest, along my neck, all the way up to capture my lips. "Forbes magazine, 'America's Best Colleges'," she breathed in between kisses. "It's published annually, and Yale always makes the top three."

"Top three?" I repeated in mock surprise as I pulled on her lower lip with my teeth, illiciting a deep moan from her. "If it's so perfect, shouldn't it always be number one?"

She wrapped one of her legs around my hips, pressing her body against mine, and bringing her fingers to the front of my shirt, starting to undo the buttons. "They're just biased," she contended breathlessly. "They couldn't have the same school win first place every year. If you look at the individual points, anyone could see they're consistently the best."

She stripped my shirt off me finally, and her fingernails eagerly raked across the skin of my chest.

"Illuminate me," I ordered, burying my fingers in her hair.

She smiled slightly as she began unbuttoning her blouse. "They're number one in the country for their law school. Which is why Daddy went there, of course."

"Mmm," was all I could reply around her lips as they pressed hard against mine once again.

"Their library is world reknown," she panted, ripping her shirt off. "Five U.S. Presidents and eighteen Supreme Court Justices have graduated from there."

She undid the clasp of her bra, and sighed happily as she rubbed her breasts to the bare skin of my chest.

"I don't know..." I pursed my lips, as if thinking about it. Really, I was just having a hard time keeping the gleeful smirk off my face. And trying to keep my pants dry. "I'd always thought Harvard was better."

She snorted delicately, climbing atop my legs and yanking my belt off, anger making her actions a little vindictive. Somehow, I didn't mind...

"Harvard is the _whore_ of Ivy Leagues," she informed me in a conceited voice, pulling down my pants, then streaking her fingers along the newly exposed flesh. "Yale is more selective with their students, they don't just let anyone in."

She reached across the bed to my nightstand, rummaging for a condom located in the top drawer. This placed her breasts dangling directly over my head, an opportunity which I greedily took advantage of with my teeth.

She gasped when she felt my hot tongue on her flesh, breathing hard now. I heard the rip of plastic as she sat back on my legs, placing a hand on the back of my head to keep it in position.

"And their colors" -she moaned, sounding slightly incoherent, as her quick fingers stretched the condom over me- "are blue and white, which I have always thought suited me very well."

"Very true," I agreed, sliding into her finally, both of us sighing in response. "Maybe Yale is a better fit for me, afterall," I allowed.

She smiled triumphantly as her fingers threaded through my hair, and continued murmuring little, inconsequential facts about her beloved school as she rocked her hips against mine. Things that I didn't think she was even aware of anymore and that I wasn't really listening to.

And thinking all the while that it was one of the most adorable secrets I could discover about Blair Waldorf.

And, after we collapsed on the bed together, I waited a full five minutes before requesting in an innocent voice, "So... tell me about their literary program again?"

Alright, so we did have a lot of sex, but amidst all the sex were conversations, details shared about each other that bonded us together, and made me feel like I knew her in a way that no one else did or ever would.

I watched as she slowly turned into a new person- a new kind of Blair Waldorf. Still the deliciously bitchy ice queen, but just thawed out a little, loosened up. In the beginning I was so often the main pursuer- always having to win my time with her. Only once did she come to me, all on her own, with no prodding on my part.

It was on a day on which her mother had needed to do a lot of planning for an event, and Blair had told me that she would need to help her. But when I opened the door of my suite, I found her sitting on my bed.

"Well, hello," I purred, gloriously surprised to find her here. "Couldn't wait, could we?"

She shrugged her shoulders slightly. "I just felt like coming over."

Her voice was not quite normal, just a tinge of sadness or anger in it. I figured something must have happened with Elinor.

I did not really know how to comfort people though, and what advice did I really have to give on dealing with emotionally detached parents? I could use some myself, actually.

The better option, or more easier for me I should say, would be to try and distract her.

I tossed my bag lightly on the floor and came to sit by her on the bed.

"And you chose to grace your presence at my suite all on your own? I'm honored, Waldorf." I raised her fingers to my lips and began kissing them individually.

She sighed tiredly and laid a tentative head on my shoulder. "I just needed to get out of there," she mumbled.

I always smiled like an idiot when these moments happened between us, which was not too often. But I always relished the feeling such moments brought on of what it was like to have another person rely on you, put their trust in you, turn to you for protection. I had never experienced it before in my life and I was always eager for more.

"So then, what would you like to do- besides me, of course?" I smirked.

She brought a hand to brush it against my cheek, feeling the beginnings of a five o'clock shadow, then smiled mischieviously. "What if that's exactly what I want to do?"

I had to control my excitement for a second. I loved it when she initiated.

"Then the matter of the question is not what but where?" I brought my lips to her ear and began nibbling on the fleshy underside. "Shall we go for a turn in the limo? Just remember to keep it quiet. I think that old lady on the street corner heard you last time."

Her eyebrows pulled down in confusion. "I thought you said your limo was soundproof."

"It is. You're just that loud." I smirked with pure enjoyment, because I hadn't gotten around to soundproofing them just yet. But it was so much more enjoyable when she let herself totally loose. And when I saw the crowds on New York staring in shock at the noises coming from my limo. I began kissing down her throat and along her collarbone.

She sighed, and it came out as a mixture of pleasure and disappointment.

"It's cold, and these tights are really not that effective at covering my legs," she reasoned.

I was about to inform her that she would not be wearing tights anyway and that my limo had excellent heating capabilities, but then paused for a second, recollecting. "Now that you mention it, I don't think I've ever seen you wear pants. Do you even own a pair?"

She smiled with a bitter tinge to it, rolling her eyes then looking away slightly. "Mommy dearest says my butt and thighs are "too plump" for pants."

I frowned at that. What the fuck was Eleanor Waldorf seeing when she looked at her daughter? How could she not see the perfect symmetry that was her body? But then, women continually failed to understand this about the male psyche, that we wanted something opposite from our own bodies- soft and curvy and plump where a woman should be plump.

And yet, though I did not like that this hurt Blair, I found that I enjoyed that we had this particular thing in common- a really horrible parent. Nate and Serena had irresponsible parents too, but Blair and mine seemed to get off in particular about being verbally abusive to their children.

I reached up with a gentle finger to turn her chin to face me, as she had still been looking, embarrassedly, away. "Clearly, the fashion world has made your mother insane," I purred, but looking sincerely into her guarded eyes. I stroked my hands along her legs. "Your ass is one of my favorite features of yours."

She snorted, raising a disbelieving eyebrow. "Whatever, I know you like my breasts best. You're constantly playing with them."

I smiled as I began unbuttoning her shirt with quick fingers. "It's true, the girls and I have become very good friends. But don't be jealous; it's because I speak their language."

I opened her shirt and merely stared at her breasts for a prolonged second, and watched as they puckered delightfully under my gaze.

I waved one hand at her chest with a satisfied smirk. "Case in point."

She continued to stare at me with a slightly bemused, slightly disbelieving look in her eyes.

She lifted herself to straddle my hips, wrapping her legs around my waist and bringing her arms around my neck. She laid a few kisses along my jawline. "So, then what's so great about my derriere?"

"Mmm, yes," I breathed, flicking a tongue in her ear as I kneaded the part of her anatomy in question with my hands. "It's rather necessary to hold onto at certain times, if not for safety reasons alone. It may as well be called the sexual seatbelt."

She laughed lightly, threading her fingers through my hair as I kissed the nape of her neck.

"And my thighs?" she questioned, a note of skepticism in her otherwise breathy voice.

"Have you not noticed how perfectly they wrap around my waist?" I asked, taking her legs and sliding them over my shoulders. "Or my neck..."

And then I lowered my head to her thighs, to show her just how much I appreciated them, and what lay between them.

The next day, Blair Waldorf found a pair of black pants on her bed encased in a gold Neiman Marcus box, that I knew would particularly showcase her ass and thighs.

Yes, everything was going incredibly well, better than I would have ever thought possible. I kept waiting for my desire or even affection for her to dissipate, but it never did. In fact, it seemed to grow exponentially everyday.

A good business investment, my father might say.

And Nate didn't suspect or say a thing about Blair until one morning as we walked to a practice session for the upcoming debutante ball.

"Hey, so has Blair mentioned who's escorting her?" he asked casually enough, but his eyes looking quickly at me.

Just then, my little bubble of total happiness sprung a leak.

I was thrown off a bit by the question, not only because it was the first time Nate had ever mentioned Blair's name since they'd broken up, but also because it was a bit of a sore subject for me. Blair had said it was highly necessary that we not go to the cotillion together, since that would be immediately suspicious. I didn't care about the dance so much, but I did care that some other guy would be holding her in his arms all night.

"Why?" I asked, slipping into the easy Bass leering voice. "Are you having remorse sex fantasies about your ex?"

"What? No," he vehemently denied.

Great. Now I had just put the thought into his head.

And though sex with his ex might not be the main objective of Nate Archibald right now, I could tell there was something brewing. And I had to find out just what it was.

"Don't eff, with an effer," I goaded. "I know that look."

He shook his head, struggling for a few seconds to put it into words. "No, it's just every time I see her, man- something's different. She's lighter, she's happier. She's just... less _Blair_."

It's called the glow of several orgasms a day, buddy- something that was apparently foreign to those that did not know how to give them.

Still, I secretly felt that Blair's current effusive state went beyond mere sexual satisfaction.

The real reason behind Blair's sudden joyfulness?_ Me_.

I tried, unsuccessfully at first, to keep the grin off my face. It wouldn't really do for one's best friend to have a knowing smirk when talking about one's ex-girlfriend.

I tried to settle my expression to detached observation. "She does have a certain... glow about her, doesn't she?" I smiled at my own private joke.

I hoped he would end it at that. But he wouldn't let go.

"With my dad in rehab, it's like the pressure's finally off me. You know, I can see Blair clearly and it's..." he sighed, "I don't know man, I think I might miss her."

What the fuck had I done that had caused this karma to come back and get me? Well, okay, that list of misdeeds would be really long, but wasn't I making up for all of that with all that was happening with me and Blair? I was being good, tender, affectionate, and for once I was _happy_.

Why did the universe always seem to be in opposition of that?

Well, I wasn't going to stand by and let it ruin my happiness this time.

I shook my head determinedly as we arrived at the building where the practice was being held. "You don't miss her, man," I laughed, though I felt like doing just the opposite.


	5. The End of a Dance, The Start of a Game

The End of a Dance, the Start of a Game

_"I think I'm drowning  
Asphyxiated  
I wanna break this spell  
That you've created_

"You're something beautiful  
A contradiction  
I wanna play the game  
I wan't the friction

"You will be the death of me  
"Yeah, you will be the death of me

"Bury it  
I won't let you bury it  
I won't let you smother it  
I won't let you murder it

"Our time is running out  
Our time is running out  
You can't push it underground  
You can't stop it screaming out

_"How did it come to this?"_

-Muse

The room was already filled with students when we walked in, and only a few minutes after, Blair and Serena came in as well. I watched as Nate noticed them as well.

I wished more desperately now that I was Blair's partner for the dance. Everyone knew that we were good friends- it couldn't have been that big of a shock if we went together. And even, if people did find it suspicious- would it be so bad? They had to find out sometime...

Then I thought of Nate's reaction and knew that it was right. Annoyed as I was with him now, he was still my best friend, and when he did find out, I wanted to make sure it was at the right time.

The students gathered together to begin the practicing and I lined up with my partner. Good thing I was an excellent dancer and was able to keep up with the steps easily all the while surreptitiously watching Blair. And watching whether Nate was watching Blair.

I tried not to for security purposes, but I couldn't help ogling a bit as I watched her dance. But it wasn't really my fault that she had a perfectly delicious ass, now was it? The outfit she wore was another inspiration from me, which showed off the curves I had previously informed her I adored.

I was relieved that, though Nate sometimes looked at her nervously, she only returned his glance with cold annoyance. Meanwhile, whenever she twirled near me, I received secretive smiles and winks.

I made sure to schedule time with her after the dance. It was probably from jealousy from Nate's earlier comments, which was silly I knew. But, I still couldn't shake the anger and, though I hated to admit it, fear his words had induced in me.

I now had an established secret route to her bedroom, one which did not require me going in the open places of the Waldorf residence. As I said before, it pays to be kind to the help.

When I arrived at her room and she was waiting for me on her bed, I did not waste much time with talking. Jealousy from Nate's comments had made me more primal, and it was so good to know that I was the only one allowed to kiss Blair Waldorf at this moment, it made me a little zealous.

And, as always, she melted in my arms, leaning back on the bed and taking me with her, our kisses never breaking once.

I settled myself between her legs, my fingers scraping along her legs, clad in adorable red tights today.

When I finally felt secure enough, my jealousy and fear abated from our heated kisses, I broke off enough to speak. "Looking pretty hot on Princess Theodore's arm today." I was trying to compliment her more often now, knowing thay she needed it.

"Oh, is that all I am to you?" she retorted, a teasing smile curving her lips. "Just an accessory?"

I smiled again and slowly kissed her. It was funny because it was so absolutely ludicrous. Actually, it was getting rather dangerous just how much Blair Waldorf was beginning to mean to me.

"Next to him, yes," I allowed, then swung her up so that she sat atop my hips. Just the way she liked it. It had come as no surprise whatsoever that Blair Waldorf liked it best while on top.

"On me, you'd be so much more," I teased, lifting my hips a little to ensure she got the joke. I was only being carefree on the surface though, a queer feeling inside me told me that I was really being serious.

"Yes, but I can't be _on_ you, remember?" she reminded me, adjusting herself slightly to settle more comfortably on me. "Because you don't want Nate to find out. And I don't want anyone to."

I would have been slightly annoyed at her last comment- as if everyone knowing that Chuck Bass was giving her mind-numbingly hot sex every night was a bad thing. I mean, really, who wouldn't want that?

But she leaned down and grabbed me by my collar, capturing my lips in a passionate kiss as she pulled us both up to a sitting position.

"You'll have to learn how to behave yourself first," she proscribed, and I began kissing her again, this time more tenderly, if only because she was finally admitting that we would someday come out together. Besides, we both knew we liked it best when neither of us was behaving.

And wasn't it clear that the reason why Blair was becoming a newer, better version of herself- _because_ she had someone to help her misbehave? Her world had been pristine and perfect for far too long, she'd really needed someone who would cause some chaos.

And unfortunately, that's just when something hit to ruin our happy little chaos.

"Miss Blair!" Dorota called from downstairs loudly. "Mr. Nate here for you!"

My body stiffened for a second as the words clicked into understanding, then I fell back onto the bed with a groan. Of emotional and certainly physical pain.

Blair's eyebrows pulled down in surprise and, I was so extremely happy to note, annoyance. She sighed in a similar way that my groan had escaped me.

"I'll be right back," she promised as she slid off me and my now very disappointed erection. "Don't start without me," she warned me with a raised finger before closing the door.

I sighed loudly again to the empty room. I really hadn't expected that Nate would move so quickly. He was the brooding type, much less a man of action. I thought he would mull it over in his head a bit more before he tried anything.

I should just wait here. Blair had promised she would come back, and I really doubted that they would suddenly attack each other downstairs with the help cleaning around them.

But even just _thinking _of that image sickened me so much that I thought I would retch. And magically dissipated all previous horniness.

I walked along the secret route I used to sneak into Blair's room, so that I could listen without being seen.

I came in just in time to hear Nate speaking.

"-the ball is something we've talked about doing ever since we were, like, ten years old. And I've given you every reason to hate me-"

"True," Blair interjected quickly in an icy tone. Very good. "But keep going," she added. Less good.

"And the prince, he's, you know" -Nate scoffed jealously- "he's a great dancer and all." Here, Archibald paused, and his tone turned submissive and pleading. "But is there any chance you'd go with me instead?"

There was a beat of silence as I imagined Blair considering his words.

"For old time's sake," Nate added, sounding slightly desperate.

"Nate," Blair finally answered, and her tone again abated my fears. She was still as cold and unmoved as ever. "After what you pulled on my birthday, the only thing we should be doing together is moving on."

I smiled, completely relieved. Blair didn't have any feelings for Nate anymore. He wasn't her white knight in shining armor anymore.

That was me.

Except my armor was an Armani tux and my steed was a limousine. Much more stylish, and we all knew she very much she enjoyed the perks of my mode of transportation.

"Yeah, I know," Nate replied, his voice sufficiently admonished.

And that's exactly where it should have ended- Blair giving out a flippant farewell and running up the stairs to rip her clothes off and fuck me wild.

I was just about to turn back so that she would not find the room empty, when Nate spoke again.

"Look, I haven't worn this sweater in, like, forever, and I just pulled it out today and I found this."

I wondered what on earth he was talking about until Blair answered.

"It's my pin," she announced, her voice softer and reminiscent this time, freezing me in my tracks. "I sewed it there so you'd always have my heart on your sleeve."

Nate chuckled, his voice mirroring hers in nostalgia. "I know," he added quietly.

Every second, it was just getting worse and worse.

"Yeah, I figured you might need it back or something, if..." Nate offered, his voice sounding slightly reluctant.

"No," Blair insisted, to my great disappointment. "It was a gift."

Then after a moment she continued. "The prince will understand. Maybe we should go to the ball together."

"As friends," she clarified.

"Absolutely," Nate agreed quickly.

"But only as friends," Blair continued to say.

"Just friends," he asserted.

But the thing is, they didn't sound just like friends when they'd said that. Not at all.

I grimaced to myself as a new kind of pain surged through my heart. It was more than the insipid jealousy I'd felt at the idea of Nate liking her again. Because now I _knew_ that that was the case.

And, given the choice between the two of us, I didn't know how I would stand up against Nate Archibald in Blair's eyes.

I quickly returned to her room as I heard their conversation closing. Blair did not respond well when I had acted jealous before, and especially with Nate, so I would pretend I didn't know anything. And honestly, maybe it was better if she thought I didn't care, maybe cause a little jealousy in herself...

I lay back on the bed, my arms beneath my head, the picture of ease. The door opened quietly a few minutes afterwards, and Blair peeked at me from behind the wood.

"And what did lover boy want?" I asked carelessly.

She turned to close the door, then skipped to the bed lightly to where I lay. She sighed loudly as she climbed back onto her previous location atop my hips, as if the encounter had been a nuisance.

"Looks like I won't be the _accessory_ of Prince Theodore at the cotillion afterall," she explained, then shrugged her shoulders lightly as she began to unbutton my shirt. "Nate said he thought we should go to the dance together since we'd always planned to, so..." She shrugged again, leaving it at that.

_Like hell you will, bitch._ That's what I would have liked to respond with, but I knew it would not help the situation.

I was learning, little by little.

"And you're actually going to go with him? After all he did?" I asked, eyebrow raised, trying to keep my voice even.

She had moved onto my belt now; I noticed that she kept her eyes trained on it as she answered my question. "Yes, well, why not? He knows it's just as friends and, who knows, maybe the press will be good for his family." She gave a small smile as she leaned down to kiss me, her hands sliding their way up my chest.

I was sure that friendship was far from the mind of Nate when he'd agreed to that little deal. Still though, it was _my_ bones she was ready to jump now, not the other way around.

But the stupid heart pin rather bothered me. Blair had yet to give _me_ anything like that. But then again, _I_ had given her a trinket to keep me on her mind, hadn't I?

I had learned to not display too much emotion early on, since it never illicited a good reaction from her. She would either laugh in my face about it, or get annoyed and muttering about my 'jealous boyfriend act'. And I certainly never spoke about feelings after the way she reacted on the night of her birthday party.

No, all in all, manipulation was still the best bet in getting what you wanted.

"Well if you're going with Archibald, we'll need to schedule a doctor's appointment for directly afterwards," I warned her as I unzipped her from her outfit, my hands relishing the new found skin. "We may just find your toes in pedagogical arrest at the end of the night."

She laughed as her eyes closed and she threw her head back, acknowledging that it was true.

"By the way," I began in an off-handed, innocent tone as sucked on a nipple through her bra. "Did you notice how nicely your dress would go with the necklace I gave you? Perhaps you should wear it."

"I'll consider it," she replied breathily, her lips curving upwards as she slipped off my pants.

The next day, changes for the plans had to be administered to, which mainly meant Blair approving Nate's attire for the evening. That was something that old Blair would care desperately about, but new Blair? Not so much.

And she sure as hell didn't give a damn about anything at all with what I was doing to her when she got Nate's text reminding her of the appointment.

"Oh!" she gasped, for once not because of the pleasures I was inducing. "I forgot- I have to meet Nate at the tailor's!" She scrambled off the bed, hiking up the black pants I'd given her that showed off her exquisite backside.

"I can give you a ride," I offered, the double entendre not lost on me as I smirked. But more than anything I didn't want her out of my sight.

"You better believe you will, Bass," she countered, grabbing my hand as she ran out of my suite.

When she left the limousine, I asked the driver to drive around in circles so that I could pick her up again.

It would only be five, maybe ten minutes I told myself. What all did she have to do there? See tux, approve, get out, get in limo, take off clothes.

Still, it bothered me letting them have that five minutes alone. I needed to make sure I kept myself on her mind.

I picked up my phone. 'R U with him rt now?' I texted to her, hopefully distracting her from any more trips down barf-inducing memory lane with her ex-boyfriend. And if it were at all possible, I would have found a way to ensure that Nate kept his eyes off her ass.

I really should have kept her out of those pants.

My phone buzzed with her reply quickly. 'Why? Did U not get enough?'

I could imagine the self-satisfied smirk that went along with a comment like that. I sent my reply in seconds.

'U wanted the quickie in the limo on the way...'

Her message came soon after.

'But U weren't quick enough- U made me late.'

I shook my head, grinning though no one was around to see it.

'U weren't complaining b4.'

And she returned just one minute after that, smiling and playfully hitting me for my insolent conduct. I would never regret it, if it kept her in my arms and out of Nate's.

And I was all the more relieved to hear complaints of her lack of response from Nate. Relieved because it meant nothing had happened between them, annoyed because this was making him more determined.

"I just don't get it," he complained to me as we hung out later that day. "I organized everything the way she likes it. I mean, I even made sure my bowtie matches her dress."

"Like the book says, she's just not that into you, man," I told him in a tired voice.

"I have to find out if she's seeing someone- it's killing me," he seethed. Then a new idea occurred to him. "You guys are still pretty close, right?"

I fumbled for a few seconds in how to reply. Close? As in, have I rammed her till she thought she would burst with me? Well then, yes. We're pretty close.

"Uh... yeah," I answered vaguely.

"Could you find out who she's seeing?"

"Me," I replied, with far too much significance than Nate should ever notice.

"Yes. C'mon, man- who better?" Nate pleaded.

I thought about it for a minute, realizing that this was the best position to be in all this mess. That was the only position of control. "Who better indeed?" I agreed, hooking an arm around his shoulder.

Things were going well, albeit a little precarious. I felt like things might not feel totally normal until the ball was past us.

Until the next day, when I dropped by the Waldorf residence after lunch, desperately needing some afternoon delight with Blair.

When the elevator doors opened however, I found her being interviewed by a reporter from the Times.

"Oh I'm not going with the Prince anymore, I'm going with Nate Archibald," she corrected him, her tone sickly sweet and simpering. Like the old Blair.

The reporter nodded his head, as if this was an interesting turn of events.

"Given our history," Blair contiued to explain in that wheedling voice. "It was only right. He is a perfect gentleman, a perfect date."

I couldn't take anymore of this.

I stepped quickly to her side, reaching my hand out to shake the reporter's hand. "Chuck Bass," I introduced myself.

"Hi, John Mavery, New York Times."

"I'd just like to say," I continued, sliding an arm around Blair's waist and catching the look of disgruntlement of her face as I turned back to the reporter- "how proud I am of Miss Waldorf and her commitment to Mr. Archibald. Even though he ruined her seventeenth birthday and slept with-"

But unfortunately at that moment, Blair's stiletto Gucci heel chose to meet the inside of my toe. Roughly.

"Thank you!" Blair quickly interjected, stifling my groan of pain. "That was great, right?"

"Take care," the reporter replied, walking towards the elevator.

"Alright, have a good one!" Blair called out.

"What was that?" she seethed at me once the doors were closed.

"I should ask you the same question. 'Perfect gentleman', 'perfect date'?" I was so mad, the anger swelling up inside me that I couldn't hold it in any longer. What did it matter if she was just saying it to the reporter to get a good news article- if she really thought that way, I was in a lot more trouble than I thought. "That broken record was a hit last year; get with the times- he bores you."

That was exactly what made me afraid- how much she had sounded like the old Blair. The old Blair thought that Nate was perfect and the perfect man for her. But I knew the new Blair- the _real_ Blair I would say, did not want a boy like nate Archibald.

She wanted to be with me.

And I needed to make sure she stayed that way.

"You almost made a _fool _of me in front of the New York Times," she pushed me away from her slightly. "Which proves my very point- you can't be trusted."

I was about to ask her what the hell she was talking about, but she went on.

"Nate is a gentleman," she explained in a haughty voice, implicit with assuredness. "He would never do anything to cause a scene."

"Never get your blood going either," I countered, moving closer to her in order to do just that.

But she pushed me back again. "Speaking of going, that's what you should Baizen is on his way here, right now."

That for sure wasn't the fuck what I expected.

"What? What the hell are you doing with Carter Baizen?" I ground out.

"He left his jacket here yesterday, and I'd rather you be gone when he got here," she explained in a cool voice.

I could only stare at her, my jealousy and anger and hurt making me incapable of responding.

"There's been enough scenes for today," she said dismissively, walking away without a single glance back.

I watched her for a few seconds, still so immobilized in the chaos of my emotions. Never, never had she acted this way around me- even in the beginning, I'd always been able to get under her skin and win her over. And now she thought she could just dismiss me out of hand- like I was some pet of hers?

Wrong, bitch. Dead wrong.

Well, the encounter certainly increased my motivation to find a decoy for Blair's new boy toy for Nate. And I just realized how to make this a happy ending for everyone tonight. Most especially myself.

So Blair didn't want someone that caused a scene, huh? Then we'd see how much she wanted Nate after tonight...

****

When we arrived at the ball, I immediately searched for Blair. And I was extremely relieved when I saw her, in a long silver gown with my necklace matching perfectly along her throat.

And because she did not look like she was having the thrill of her life to be going with Nate Archibald.

The presenting of each debutante was tedious, but I did enjoy watching the sparks fly between Nate and Carter. I hadn't even known they would be standing right by each other- that was simply a little help from fate.

But once the first dance began, I knew that was where I could make my moves. And I really couldn't stand watching Blair wrapped up in her prince charming's arms, the two of them looking like aluminum foil stuck together.

I watched the dancers as I would pieces of chess, calculating, waiting for the best opportunity to strike. Of course, I mainly had to wait until Nate would be away from Blair.

Luck finally found me when Carter slipped into Blair's arms, and Nate switched into Serena's, but kept his eyes on the other couple.

When Carter murmured something in Blair's ear, I took hold of the situation.

"He just told her what he's going to do to her later," I informed Nate, as I danced with my partner. And Nate did not need any encouragement- he simply dropped his hold on Serena, stalked over to where Carter and Blair were dancing, and immediately grabbed him by his tux lapels.

"They might not know who you are, but I sure as hell haven't forgotten."

And then, causing quite the scene, he punched Carter right in the face.

"Nate! What are you doing?!" Blair cried out, sounding exquisitely pissed off and aggravated at the interruption.

But Nate was still on the floor with Carter, still picking a fight. "She's my girlfriend!" he yelled.

No, Nathaniel, she's not. In fact, after tonight, everyone would know that she is mine.

"Get off me," Carter grumbled, as reinforcements came to break up the fight.

Blair was being led away by Serena. "Ugh- they ripped my dress!" she complained.

Blair was upset because her dress was ripped. Because Nate had caused a fight that had ripped her dress. And that had completely derailed the entire debutante ball. The one that the New York Times would be writing a piece on.

Not such a perfect date anymore now was he, Blair? Not such a gentleman?

But then, maybe Blair just didn't want a gentleman anymore.

I had never really thought that I was one, anyway.

I waited in the ballroom as Blair got her dress fixed somehow. Nate had been escorted out of the ball and who knew where he was. I felt a little guilt for doing this to my friend, but this was what was best for all. I knew, knew it in my bones that he and Blair were not meant to be- they only brought out the worst in each other. He would find someone else, someone that he should be with. Or he could finally have all those one night stands he'd been missing out on his whole life.

I, on the other hand, would have my hands full with just one woman, the only woman I seemed to want anymore.

Ok, so maybe I couldn't be a gentleman like Nate had been, but I could try a little harder. Be a little more romantic, a little giving. I had brought out changes in Blair, maybe it was time that Chuck Bass made some reformations as well.

At last, I saw her enter the room, her dress repaired, and looking as exquisite as ever. I turned to the singers and indicated with a raised hand for them to start up again. I had requested for something more slow-paced, because I wanted as much time with my arms wrapped around Blair tonight as possible.

I turned back to where she was standing, my most irresistible smile in place.

She noticed me standing there and began walking forward.

"Have you seen Nate?" she asked, slightly impatient.

I closed a hand over hers and snaked my arm around her waist, bringing her right up against me as we started to dance. Just where I'd been wanting her all night.

"Nate was asked to leave, but, here I am." Finally, her toes were no longer in mortal danger.

I couldn't stop smiling now. But everything had been so simple, so easy. As if fate was working with me, instead of against me for once. Perhaps because Blair and I were meant to be...

All I'd had to do was suggest things to Nate- no, not even that, I just had to interpret things to him and let him do all of the deciding. I never told him to punch Carter Baisen in the face, disrupting all of the cotillion. Sure, I _expected_ he would do that, but still... it was in his nature to do those things. And if that wasn't the kind of thing Blair wanted in a man, then it was a good thing that I had brought this to her attention.

I'd always known that they had never belonged together.

Maybe this was fate's way of saying that_ we_ did...

"I know that look..." Blair said suddenly.

She was staring at my face carefully, reading it. I supposed this was the moment, the moment when we'd take things to the next level. I was so happy in this instant, so glad to have Blair finally where I wanted her- with me, and no cares of Nate- that I couldn't know what look was on my face, but I could guess. The look of happiness? The look of contentment? The look of- I finally admitted it- love?

"It's the look when your plan falls into place," she stated in a cool voice, completely the opposite from the lines I had been thinking of. Yet, the fact remained that it was true. She knew me well- a little to well, in this case.

A little doubt crept in.

"You're enjoying this," she continued, her voice growing harder and colder with every syllable. I felt my cloud of happiness dissipating. "You knew Carter was going to my house. You tipped off Gossip Girl. You _ruined_ my cotillion on purpose."

She stopped moving, ending our dance, though the music played on. "You did this for your own enjoyment and didn't care what it would do to me. Which is exactly why you and I can never work."

"Wait- slow down there, Waldorf," I said, in as calm a tone I could, bringing her close to me again. Our dance was not over yet.

"You make me sick," she uttered, in a tone that could only be called revolted. She shoved my hands away from her and stepped back, like I was some disgusting piece of garbage.

"This thing between us- it's over. For good." She turned around and started to walk away.

She had the actions right, but she was wrong about the motivations behind them. It had not been enjoyable to do these things, in fact, the whole time I had been almost sick with worry that they wouldn't work. And it wouldn't have meant anything to me if it hadn't all been to secure her.

My tone came out much more desperate this time. "Wait- Blair, I didn't mean to-"

"Don't talk to me!" she interrupted, yanking her arm out of the grip I had placed on her in one last attempt to make her stay. She turned and walked quickly away.

"Blair!" I yelled her name, not caring if I was the one making the scene now.

But she continued to quickly stride out of the room, disappearing from sight when she walked out of the door.

Well that certainly hadn't been part of the plan. I suppose I should have known that Blair would catch onto my orchestations, being so adept at manipulation herself.

Still, why did she think that this had all been some game to me- that I would ruin her cotillion for no reason beyond enjoying the distruction? How could she not see the obvious- that I had been overcome with jealousy over her and Nate?

I suppose it was something that the old Chuck Bass would do, the old Chuck Bass whose life hadn't been turned upside down by one ninety-three pound brunette debutante.

Everyone saw the new Blair Waldorf, most especially myself. Why hadn't she seen that she had inspired a new Chuck Bass as well?

Well, this was the time to inform her. The old Chuck Bass might have used manipulation or seduction to try and get Blair back, having seen his father employ those methods with his girlfriends his whole life. But obviously, those were not things that should be used in a relationship. A relationship that you wanted to last anyway.

And I realized, now more than ever, that I wanted this to last...

I would have to tell her everything. Tell her that I didn't want to be her secret shame anymore. Tell her that I wanted her like no other woman. Tell her that I... was extremely afraid that I might be in love with her.

Actually I was extremely afraid to tell her any of that. But, I had to tell her, if I wanted her to stay.

The song that I had requested was still playing as I walked out of the room. I didn't know exactly where she would have gone, but I assumed it would be out of public view. Was she crying now, because I had hurt her? It was hard to imagine, and I didn't want to cause her pain, but at the same time, it would mean that I meant enough to her to cause her to cry over me. That she cared for me too.

It gave me slightly more confidence.

The staircase to the second floor was dark now, looking like an optimal place for seclusion. There was a girl walking down from it, and perhaps she would have seen Blair go up there.

"Hey, have you seen Blair Waldorf?" I asked, stepping up to her level.

"There," she answered, pointing up the stairs, and then continuing on her way down.

As I'd thought, she'd gone up to the second floor where no one was because she needed time alone. She didn't want anyone to see the hurt I'd caused her, didn't want anyone to know that Blair Waldorf could be weak.

Just as I would discover her more vulnerable side, I vowed I would reveal mine to her.

Our song, echoing faintly from the other room, ended just as I stepped to the top of the stairs and looked up.

It was a confusing scene at first. I only saw a couple locked in a passionate embrace, near the door to one of the suites. But at second glance, I recognized the entwined lovers with harsh clarity.

There Blair was, in a darkened corner, but not alone as I'd imagined. She had her lips glued to the face of Nate Archibald.

Time was moving slowly, like it would eventually stop. And I could think of no more horrible moment for time to stop at than this.

It was not the sweet, innocent kisses they'd often shared before the break-up. It was passionate, consuming. Like ours had always been.

She broke the kiss finally, and looked up into his eyes dreamily. "It's so hot how you punched Carter out. I've never seen you do that before."

I could feel the bile rising into my throat at her words. What about not wanting to cause a scene Blair? What about acting like a fucking gentleman?

Blair moved on to kiss Nate's throat, which was when he happened to glance up at see me standing there.

Nate _winked _at me, like I would somehow be happy for him, like it was all a part of the plan. I could have punched him in the face right there.

Except that I knew if I did that, Blair would not say it was hot, and she would not be making out with me because of it.

And it was only because I wasn't Nate fucking Archibald.

And I would never be her prince charming, who could do no wrong.

They moved steadily into the room, Nate still grinning at me and Blair still with my necklace wrapped around her neck.

I hoped it burned a hole right through her skin.


	6. Convalescence

Convalescence

"_This means nothing to me  
'Cause you are nothing to me  
And it means nothing to me  
That you blew this away_

_'Cause you could've been number one  
If you only found the time  
And you could've ruled the whole world  
If you had the chance_

_You could've been number one  
And you could've ruled the whole world  
And we could've had so much fun  
But you blew it away_

_You're still nothing to me  
And this is nothing to me  
And you don't know what you've done  
But I'll give you a clue"_

-Muse

Most people when they looked at Chuck Bass saw someone who didn't give a fuck about anything in life. On the surface, I knew I appeared as the carefree, lazy, self-indulgent playboy that was, really, the posterboy for upper-east siders. But, in fact, those terms were not entirely applicable to me- most esecially the idea that I was carefree- that I lived life without a thought of consequences. In fact, I never made a decision without carefully thinking over the possible outcomes. My wild life of booze, sex, and parties was actually its own self-contained bubble, a very safe and steady place in which to inhabit.

I did not actually seek out the new and unknown in these things, I surrounded myself with the familiar and comforting. The scent of alcohol had always been very present in my life, it was in its strongest as a child, because that was when Bart was always drunk. And the thrum of music and raucous laughter were the same to me as lullabies and childhood rhymes. I didn't choose any random girl to sleep with for the night- I always picked out the ones who I knew were "safe", the ones that knew this would be a one-night affair, forgotten as easily as the sun rises over the horizon.

It was a staid life, a life that did not require much effort, despite it often being referred to as 'fast-paced'. Trying against those vices, against those comforts was much, much harder.

But one always wonders what its like on the other side, now don't we?

And one could imagine the utter fear and sadness a little boy might feel after tasting a few of the delights of that other world, before being shoved back into his own homey hell. Because now he knew that it wasn't all that bad on the otherside.

But he hadn't belonged there. He hadn't even had a choice in the matter; they'd ordered him out.

In fact the one time I had allowed myself to take a risk, to trust my feelings instead of carefully planning the outcomes, I'd discovered that a) I had a heart, and b) it can be crushed and mangled in horribly painful ways.

Not anymore. Never again. The grass is a really fucked up green on the other side, and I didn't want any part of it.

The problem now was erasure. How to get rid of those memories that were now so stupidly engraved in my brain.

My first option was to escape- obviously it was not going to help anyone for me to stick around and see the vomit-inducing love show othat is Nate and Blair. I booked the first flight out to Monaco the minute I was out of the doors of where the cotillion had been held. And as I packed my clothes- needing something to do to alleviate the rage I felt, otherwise I would have had the help do it- I tried desperately to not think of exactly what must be happening in that room I had seen Nate and Blair drift into.

And the first piece of female flesh that was at all near my standards that came my way, I partook. As a matter of fact it happened on the plane ride over. Stewardess- typical, I know. And the part I relished was that it was likely only a few hours after Blair had fucked Nate.

I took great comfort in that.

I fucked as many girls as I could during the whole break. I admit, I had been a little more ostentatious than my normal standards. Of course, one had to consider the machinations behind such actions.

I did concede, even if only to myself in my head, that I wouldn't have bedded so many if I hadn't been trying to prove something. Trying to prove that she was no different, that our time together had meant nothing, that there were so many better women out there than her.

And with each little test, I found more and more damning evidence to the opposite. And I could never fully understand why the sex romps I had several times a day now had nothing on the few weeks I'd had with Blair. It didn't making sense. I was continually trying to find the girl who would be more adventurous, more erotic, more uninhibited to get any kind of rise out of me, yet I knew that one scorching look from _her_ eyes, one affectionate caress of her hand, one raw kiss, was all it took to enable the most earth-shattering sex between us.

Why was it different?

I couldn't stop that question from flooding my mind the whole damn time I was in Monaco.

Because physically, she was not the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on- far from it. Her breasts were on the smaller side, she was decidedly short, and while her face had stunning features, they were not quite perfect in their symmetry. She did not have that statuesque quality that Serena and many other women had- she was not usually the first girl you noticed in a room.

_But_, knowing her the way I did- the wicked sparkle in her brown eyes shot across the room at a potential target; the plump, indented lips curved in a smile when her victims fell into her control; the tongue that could lash out at an enemy and flow sweetly for a lover; the way she walked- watching all who crossed her path and knowing that they watched her too; the brilliant, fascinating mind that went behind it all... All of these things made her into the most uniquely beautiful woman for me. I knew every feature and the special quirk associated with it, each endearing and painfully etched into my brain so that I would never forget.

Even when I tried to.

This became all the more difficult when Nate arrived. It had been a surprise for me he'd said, but I surmised that he simply hadn't wanted to be around his family during the holidays, not with all of the shit they were going through.

I remembered the feeling that coursed through me when I first saw him standing there with his suitcases, grinning like he'd just given me the best Christmas present ever.

But for that first second, I didn't see him as the boy I had looked out for since childhood, my only real friend, and the only person who saw the Chuck Bass as something other than a total bastard.

I only saw him as the last person who had touched Blair Waldorf.

His face faltered for a second as he took in my expression. That's when I knew I couldn't be mad at him. I couldn't yell at him and tell him to get the fuck out of my hotel. I couldn't tell him to keep his fucking hands off _her_.

Because, even with the turmoil of my emotions for him, and the outright _hate_ I felt for her, I couldn't tell him about us. About what _I_ had done with his now-most-likely-once-again-girlfriend.

My lips cracked into a smirk- the closest thing that Chuck Bass ever came to actually smiling (except occasionally during two weeks of his life which will now never be thought of again).

"Nathaniel," I said in an even voice, raising the glass of brandy in my hand to salute him. "What a surprise."

His easy grin slipped back on his face, and he loped over to the patio chairs I was lying on and sat down.

"You left so quickly after the cotillion, I had to go through your dad to track down your whereabouts," he explained, gratefully not noticing the way my body stiffened slightly. "And then when I heard you went to Monaco, I thought I might join you. If you don't mind, that is..." he added with a smile.

I shook my head with my smirk plastered to my face, looking away from him as I raised my decanter to my lips. "What are friends for..." I drawled.

He smiled again, lifting his hands behind his head and stretching out on the long chair. "Speaking of which, I'm sure my best friend has a million questions to ask about the last time he saw me," he teased knowingly.

Something happened in my stomach, like a whirlwind of bile suddenly blew up all over my intestines. I choked on the burning alcohol pouring down my throat.

"You okay, man?" Nate asked as I coughed voraciously.

I regained my breath and stood up, swigging the last of my brandy to downplay it. "I'll take a raincheck on that one, Archibald. I'm afraid I'm late for a shiatsu with a very happy ending." Which wasn't true at all, but it would be now.

And that was a raincheck I would _never_ take him up on.

Nate rolled his eyes at me a little, but turned back to the scenic view my veranda provided. "Alright. I'll be here, unpacking."

I set down my glass, and made my way out. I paused at the door. "Are you sure? I could always sign you up for one too," I offered, smirking.

Blair would just _love_ that. And I would love sending her the pictures and videos of it. With personal commentary.

Nate turned to me with a look of pure satisfaction on his face. "No need, man. I got more than enough the other night."

And then he did that stupid fucking _wink_ again.

That wiped my smirk pretty quickly off my face, and once again I felt the acid tornado churning through my insides. I tore out of the room quickly.

My object then became entertaining Nate enough that I wouldn't have to hear his little anecdotes about "the night of the cotillion". I learned to improvise many different and distracting activities whenever that phrase slipped from his mouth.

Only once did I ask him for further information, only because a thought occurred to me. "So, Serena and the Shepard wedding had nothing on your night with the virgin queen, huh?" I asked in a casual voice (as far as I could tell, anyway. The outside observer might call it low and raspy), taking sips from my ever-present decanter.

Nate shot me an aggravated look for a second, as if I was bringing up past misdeeds to annoy him.

I wasn't. I had an entirely different purpose.

"Yes," he answered, almost rebelliously. "I mean, she was more hesitant, obviously, but it was her first time, so..." He shrugged.

I took a long sip of my whiskey, mulling over his words. So, then. Blair hadn't told Nate anything. I knew that she hadn't told him about _us_ obviously since he was here, without his hands wrapped around my throat. But she had actually gone as far as to fake her virginity for him. Knowing Blair Waldorf, it had probably been quite the act: the doe-eyed novice, totally innocent of anything. I wonder if she'd even spilt a vial of blood on the sheets.

I'm sure it was exactly how she had always imagined her first time to be- how it would have been if not for me.

And what made it all the more ironic was how opposite it had been to the way she _actually_ lost her virginity. There had been no blushing cheeks, no downcast eyes, no unsure hands. Just heat, skin, and instinct- all mashed together in a rush of spiraling emotions.

I let the bitterness wash over me for a minute.

I didn't even know why I asked it. It was something I was sure I didn't want to know. But suddenly the words were pouring from my mouth.

"And did she enjoy herself?" If I had been talking with a more observant listener, they would have noted the thinly veiled snarl in my question. But thankfully Nate was not very observant.

He shot me dirty look.

I stared back with a raised eyebrow.

"It's not like I could know that!" he shot back defensively.

I shook my head, and clapped a hand on his shoulder. I understood that the elation I felt from this revelation was selfish and pointless. But I had already been through enough pain by now, hadn't I? "Ah Nate, you have so much yet to learn," I said indulgently. "In fact, why don't you further your education here? I happen to have a personal harem of teachers for you..."

He punched me lightly on the shoulder and grinned knowingly. "Oh, don't worry, I'll be cracking the books again as soon as we get home."

I really needed to stop making this joke with him.

When Nate was asleep for the night, I decided to finally check my phone. I had known very well how many times my phone had gone off these past few days, and exactly who it had been. But I knew whatever she had to say to me, I wouldn't have a single thing to say to her, so there was really no use in reading her text messages.

But now, I finally had something I wanted to know from her.

I flipped open my phone, viewing all of the missed calls first, just for the sake of it. She had tried calling around three times a day. And I loathed myself when I felt just the slightest tinge of hope that those calls might have been in apology from her.

But then I checked the text messages from her, which dissolved any glimmer of hope.

'Where r u?'

'Just tell me where u r Bass, we need to talk'

'U r being an idiot about this'

'Ur answering machine message is really stupid'

'I'm just going to keep sending these until u answer...'

They grew steadily more insulting, until finally, her last one read:

'Monaco huh? Anything I need to know?'

What did Blair Waldorf need to know about my sudden need to get out of the continental US and place myself a whole ocean away from her? Nothing at all. But there was one thing I needed to know from her.

'Only 1 question: How did you fake ur virginity for N?'

I sent it out. I thankfully had not heard any calls between her and Nate, which led me to conclude that she did not know he was here. If she did, she would obviously have said something about it.

Again, my heart lurched with that stupid guarded hope that this meant she and Nate were not as back together as one might assume. If they were really back together, wouldn't she be calling him? And wouldn't he have told her that he was here?

A grim smile spread slowly across my lips in the dark of my bedroom with no one around to see it.

I most definitely did not want to, but the words of Nate earlier echoed in my head a little. Blair had been shy, hesitant when they had sex? Even if she were wanting to put on the act of being a virgin, if she were really in love with him, she shouldn't have to put on an act. It would just be normal. Which meant either that she was feeling guilt over the way she had so cruelly spurned me, or that she hadn't really wanted Nate anymore. She didn't want to do those things with him because she didn't love him anymore.

At the thought of this, I found the familiar eagerness I had experienced at the beginning of this whole ordeal returning back to me. And I realized, rather shockedly, that I was not over Blair yet. I still wanted her, despite everything that had happened.

And now I knew that there was still a chance. Old Blair was slowly returning, but new Blair was still there somewhere. The problem was Archibald. If she stayed with him, they would both return to their old selves, once again unhappy and unsatisfied.

I was going to do this the right way this time- the Chuck Bass way. I was not going to betray a single emotion, not the tiniest feeling to Blair. She would never, ever have the satisfaction of knowing that I was interested in this for more than merely torturing her. I wouldn't give her that power.

Only, only when she came to me, begging for me and without anyone else, would I ever take her back. This was going to be on my terms, and my terms alone.

When I awoke in the morning, she had finally left me a message in my voice mail.

"Chuck," it began, and I could hear the aggravation in her voice. And I tried desperately to ignore the... _butterflies_ that erupted in my stomach at the sound of her voice. "You are not answering my calls- to torture me, I'm sure. But please, for the love of god, don't tell anybody about us. Ok? Please?_ Please_-"

The call cut short, with the faint murmur of someone else's voice in the background.

It was December the twenty-fifth now, and this was officially the present I had gotten from her. Merry Christmas to you too, bitch.

Because what I hated more than anything was the way she treated our... whatever we'd had like it was nothing. Like it was shameful secret. I was too angry to do anything, and luckily had the excuse of Christmas breakfast with my father and Nate to distract me.

Afterwards, Nate and I spent some time at the beach, where I made sure to take numerous pictures of us with my phone.

When we returned to the hotel I sent one with the message of: 'Don't worry, B. Who would I tell?'

I sent her the message, imagining the ruining of her perfectly poised face when she opened it. Well, well, Nate. Perhaps you _did_ give me the best Christmas present after all.


	7. Wishful Blackmailing

A/N: Special shotout to Manoella Nascimento and razellibabz, because were it not for them, I would have thought no one was aware of the existence of this story anymore. :) On a technical note, I went back and halved some of the longer chapters for easier reading.

Wishful Blackmailing

_Loving you was easy  
Playing by the rules  
But you said love tastes so much better when it's cruel_

_To you everything was just a game  
And oh yeah you played me good  
But I want you, I want you, I want you  
So much more than I should_

_I was naïve and wide-eyed  
But you made me see  
That you don't get to taste the honey  
Without the sting of the bee_

_Oh yes you stung me good  
Oh yeah you dug in deep  
But I take it, I take it, I take it  
Till I'm down on my knees_

_I got my hands up to take your aim  
Yeah I'm ready  
There aint nothing that I won't do  
Oh it hurt me like a hurricane  
When you left me  
But I'd do it all again for you_

_It's not real until _

_You feel the pain  
And nothing ever hurt like you_

_-_James Morrison

Chapter 5

When Nate and I arrived back at JFK, just one day before the end of Christmas break, I had a plan ready. Honestly it was already being enacted so easily, I barely had to manipulate anything. I took it as a sign that this was simply how how things should be.

Ever since my text message to Blair on Christmas day, she hadn't sent nary an e-mail or phone call towards Nate. I know because he had stayed the entire time in Monaco with me, and I had to live through his occasional rants about it.

Being the caring, honest friend I was, I told him that he probably just wasn't that good in bed.

"I don't know man," he moped to me during the long, uncomfortable flight in our cheap-ass first class seats. I will cherish the day when I can use the Bass jet at will. "I just thought the night of the Cotillion made things official between us, but even before I came here she was kind of...." he struggled for the right word.

_Horrified? Disgusted? Traumatized by your small penis?_ Those were the adjectives I would have loved to supply.

"Hesitant," he decided at last. "I mean, I was there for a couple of days before I left for here, but she didn't call or come by the house." He sighed, leaning back on the headrest of his seat. "She really has changed, I guess."

That's right, Archibald. And if everything goes my way, the changes are here to stay. Because, really, they were just the qualities she'd always had, but never let anyone see before. Until me.

And this is why I wouldn't give up completely- because even before I threatened her, it meant she wasn't totally sure about her decision.

The next day at school, I made sure to stay near him, because I had to make sure I intercepted her before he did. When she finally passed through the school gates, she at first stiffened when she saw us together, then came towards forward.

"Nate," she greeted him with a polite nod. He started to say something, but she curtly turned to me.

"Chuck," she flashed a fake smile at me. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

I smirked back. "Of course."

She pulled me along with her until we reached a nearly empty hall.

"Shall we find an abandoned classroom like old times?" I leered. "Or have you found somewhere new for a quickie?"

She placed her hands on her hips. "What do you want?"

You. Obviously.

I quirked an eyebrow. "What ever do you mean, Waldorf?"

She threw her hands in the air. "What do you want from me in exchange for you not telling Nate?"

I pursed my lips, and maybe grinned too much as I considered the possibilities.

She noticed. "And nothing dirty because I won't do it,"she insisted

Damn.

Fortunately for her, I wanted much more than just sex.

But oh the things I could do to her in that little skirt she was wearing right now...

I shrugged my shoulders and reminded her, "I seem to recall you asking for the exact opposite during our little trysts before, princess."

She made a disgusted noise and began walking away. I reached out to grab her arm and stop her.

"Just keep your distance from him, will you?" I requested, my voice low and threatening. "For some reason, the thought of seeing you two together leaves the taste of vomit in my mouth."

She glared at me and crossed her arms in front of her . "Until when?"

I cupped her chin quickly and smiled down at her. "Until I say so."

And I must have really scared her because she turned out to be quite diligent in staying clear from him. Or maybe she was simply not interested in him anymore and so it was all too easy to avoid interacting with him.

Perhaps I was a little biased in that last one, but it's what I needed to believe.

And I was beginning to really believe it until the night when our class was invited to a secret party in the school's pool.

I decided to sit in the lifeguard seat for the night. Chuck Bass did not enter public pools that had likely been peed in, especially when it was so much more enjoyable to simply sit and sip a gin martini. Not to mention, the vantage point offered the best view of all the half-naked girls around me.

I was casually chatting with Susan What'shername by my stand, mainly because she was known for having a plentiful rack and I decided to take a closer look. And they were nice enough, but would her nipples be the exact color of rose petals like Blair's were?

I highly doubted it.

Apparently speaking of the devil, or thinking of the devil's nipples, I should say, really did work.

"Enough with the blackmail- aren't you bored already?" I heard her exclaiming it from my other side, but decided to keep flirting with Susan.

Or at least look like it.

She pulled on the whistle I had round my neck, forcing me to look at her. "I can't avoid Nate forever," she huffed.

This was not what I wanted to hear. It had been a whole week since my little warning to her and I was beginning to think that she was starting to act from her own desires, and not just my threats.

I took my time in pulling off the sunglasses I had on, turning back to Susan with an apologetic, "excuse me."

Susan looked annoyed at the interruption, but walked away. I turned back to Blair with a patronizing expression.

"I didn't say forever," I clarified, as if I were speaking to a 2 year-old. "Just until the sight of the two of you together doesn't turn my stomach."

"And when will that be?" she asked haughtily.

From the way it felt- _never_.

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Only time will tell, I'm afraid, so unless you want dear Nathaniel to find out that you lost your virginity to me in the back of a limo- I encourage patience and restraint."

She smiled icily at me, and her eyes told me that she wanted to shove my whistle down my throat. Or possibly somewhere lower. "Isn't there someone else you can _torture_?"

Even in this situation, with her so unsubtly insinuating what an annoyance my involvement in her life was to her- she fascinated me. The angry flash in her eyes coupled with her cold attitude, even if it was directed at me, was so delicious and intriguing. She was the kind of woman a man would always need to chase after. And I had always loved chasing.

I was so majorly fucked.

I slid my sunglasses over my eyes once more, and got down from my seat.

"Probably," I admitted, smirking as I brushed close to her half-naked form. "But I choose you."

Just like I could be lusting after so many other girls. Just like I could be trying to fall for countless others.

But no, I was choosing to not give up on the one I wanted most.

And, besides, I was starting to believe that I didn't have a choice anymore about it anyway.

The accident happened soon after that. I had barely even registered what happened until Nate was already swimming to the sidelines with the unconscious body. Chaos broke out as people simultaneously tried to help while also trying to escape the school grounds. I for one decided to simply watch from afar when I spotted a key on one of the tables the students had used to mix drinks at.

I had only heard about the party from word of mouth, and had no idea who had first let everyone into the pool house. But, obviously if it was found, there would be immediate implications as to whose it was. So I quickly pocketed it.

Let it be known that yes, even when he was not the mastermind behind the crime itself, Chuck Bass could be counted on to hide evidence for the sake of others. I had to do some occasional good deeds so that karma wasn't totally biting my ass off all the time.

Unfortunately I did not see the phone that had been left behind, which included pictures of practically everyone who'd been there. They still couldn't single out the main perpetrator though, and threatened us all with expulsion if no one came forward.

The new headmistress was a total bitch.

Not to mention, _so_ not a cougar.

But we all decided to keep quiet about it so that no one took the blame.

That had pretty much cleared up all my worries for the day, and I was back to feeling fairly jubilant. But then, who doesn't after a pot break during lunch?

I saw Nate sitting at one of the tables in the courtyard and decided to join him. I noticed him writing and figured it must be for the Lit essay we'd been assigned earlier.

Except that the Nate Archibald I knew would never start a writing assignment so early.

"You're taking that paper seriously," I observed in confused surprise as I walked up the table.

He looked up at me, looking embarrassed. "This isn't a paper, it's..." he paused, as if deliberating to tell me the truth. "It's a heartfelt letter to Blair," he finally admitted.

Oh god, the minute I got him away from Blair, we needed to have a serious talk about manhood and how love letters should be written the same number of times you should get prostate cancer. Which would be never.

"A heartfelt letter?" I scoffed, leaning down to look at him seriously. "Who spayed you, man?"

Nevermind, I already knew.

Even if I was in l- with the way I _wanted_ her, I would never let her reduce me to the pansy ass sitting in front of me right now.

"Blair doesn't even want you," I reminded him. "She's been crystal about that since you got back."

He cocked his head to the side, and declared in a bragging voice, "Didn't seem that way when she kissed me at the pool."

That made me pause. "She kissed you?"

"Well, I kissed her, but..." he clarified hastily. "Yup."

This was a complication. Obviously I had not been paying close enough attention at the pool party if I had somehow missed Nate macking on Blair at any point in time. I sighed in aggravation, sitting down and dropping my bag on the table.

Time to assess.

"What was she like?" I hazarded. "Into it, or was she more like-"

"Well, of course she was into it, man, what do you think?" he insisted, looking at me like I was crazy.

At the moment, it could be true. I was slightly fantasizing about killing him afterall.

I forced myself to lighten up."Yeah, I know but," I conceded with a smirk. "You know Blair."

He looked down at the paper again and smiled knowingly. "_Yes, I do_."

That wiped my smirk away.

And now he'd ruined double-entendre for me.

"I just think she wants me to suffer a bit more, you know- even the playing field," he decided airily, totally unaware of the way I wanted to burn his dick off right then.

"And it's worth it," he informed me in that smug tone again. "_Believe me."_

Oh, if he only knew. I was there first and I knew a hell of a lot better what she was capable of in the sack than he did. I was the one who had brought it out in her.

I was pretty much out of commission for the rest of the day- images of Nate and Blair and disgustingness stuck in my head in a way that I couldn't seem to get out.

What galled me the most was how grateful he would have been for all of this not one month before. I had been Nate's best friend for most of our lives, and I knew that the last few years of his and Blair's relationship had been a burden for him. It had been nothing but a strategic alliance for his family really, and he himself had been swept away by Serena for a long time before she took his virginity on that bar stool.

So why, after all this time did he have to choose fucking now to fall for her again?

Oh, that's right, because I brought out the real Blair Waldorf and apparently everyone can see how hot and amazing she is.

And also because I never get anything I really wanted in life.

I was in piss poor mood to be going to another party, though everyone called it a "study session", but I supposed I would go a little mad if I didn't confront Blair soon about her little kiss, so I came.

Not to mention, I still had the key to the pool, and no idea who its owner could be. I pulled it out as I lounged on a chaise as I considered the possibilities.

"I can't believe you brought that here," Blair whispered as she set down some drinks on a table, eyes widening at the key in my hand. "It's evidence- give it to me!"

She grabbed the key before I could even think to keep it away. I stared after her as she walked away, if not puzzled even more now.

Blair had never missed a day of school since she'd come to Constance; and while I had discovered some penchant for wildness in her, I knew she would never be the one to instigate an illegal party at school. Not to mention she had no means of getting that key.

But most likely she had an idea of who did. And I had one guess as to who that was.

When I saw her walking down the steps back to the foyer, I pulled her aside.

"Hey, hands off me, Bass," she protested.

"Drop your Archibald habit first," I warned.

"You know I have."

"Oh really, a kiss does sort of send the wrong signal-" I countered, continuing on before she could cut in with another lie. "Let's not waste time denying."

She sighed in exasperation. "You know what? I'm tired of this- go ahead and tell him."

She was bluffing.

"Really?" I asked, my tone harsh and sarcastic. "You want me to tell him how you slept with me then faked your virginity for him?"

"I'll just tell him you're lying," she insisted gloatingly. "And who do you think he'll believe- his honest girlfriend of many years, or you who bangs anything in his field of vision?"

I glanced to the side to see that cheap Brooklyn girl still filming us with her video camera. Now it was my turn to gloat. "Now he'll believe me."

"Why?" she asked disbelievingly.

I turned to the side and pointed to the girl. "I have proof."

I could almost hear Blair's high-strung walls collapsing in defeat.

I smirked and held out my hand. "Good eye, docugirl, I'll take the tape now."

It took a second for Blair to recover. "You knew she was watching?" she accused me, walking forward to the other girl. "This is my house, that tape belongs to me."

The girl, whose face was somewhat pretty but whose hair looked like it hadn't seen a shower for weeks- typical Brooklynite- began retreating, holding the camera away from either of us. "Actually, this is my footage and, thanks to both of you, I think I got a new angle on my subject."

Damn it, this could be bad now for both of us.

I tried grabbing it from her again. "If you think we're going to let you walk out of here with that tape, you're crazy."

So maybe I was a little overly insistent. So what, this girl obviously looked like she came from a hard-knock life.

"Hey," Dan Humphrey- bane of my existence- came by to save the damsel in distress. He threatened about his wimp ass punches again and then he and mophead left.

The next day I watched as Blair tried to win over the tape from the girl as she filmed at school (good god, was that the only thing she ever did? Poor people's education should start with increasing their leisure pursuits). When that obviously failed, I sidled up to make her an offer she couldn't refuse.

This was why I never listen to the moralizing of such self-righteous hippies. Everyone has a selling price.

We had another meeting with the new headmistress late that day. I chose the opportunity to gloat over my victory of winning the tape to Blair.

She just needed more time away from Archibald and then she could see clearly that he wasn't what she wanted at all.

I may have been far from her idea of a knight in shining armor, but I could give her the affection she needed. If only because I saw all of her- her bad and her good. And I admired both equally.

And for that matter, she was not the fairytale princess she imagined herself to be. We neither of us fit into such quaint molds.

But then, as Queller announced to us in that meeting, Nate had to go and do something that in Blair Waldorf's mind, every white knight should do.

Sacrifice himself.

The suspension just added to his sterling feat, I was sure.

When I saw that Serena had gone to confess to the crime, as I had suspected it had been, I made sure to inform my father and have him "take care of things." She wasn't expelled from school and got off with much more minor charges. And the school got a new library, so everybody wins.

See? It's not as if I didn't look out for my close friends (and now apparently she would be my step-sister). I didn't have to go to the extreme length that Nate had, prostrating himself for Blair, and risking expulsion for her.

Still I had to wonder, if it had been Blair and I knew it- would I have done the same?

Well, probably not. _But,_ that was only because I was smarter than to do such a thing. Taking the blame so that your lover would come out unscathed, however romantic it may sound, was undeniably a win-lose situation. Why not just go for the win-win situation- and set up some pawn to take the blame for you?

That's what I would have done and it was the better choice. It wasn't my damn fault if no one else could see that.

A/N: Like it? Hated it? Constructive criticism? I'll take any kind of comment, please. :)


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